University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


A  LITTLE  BOOK 
OF  CHRISTMAS 


BY 


JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS 

Author  of  "A  House-Boat  on  the 
Styx,"  "Olympian  Nights,"  etc. 


Atf  ideal  book  for  Christ m 
that  will  giv< 
son.     In  a  quartette  of 
Christmas  Eve  in  New 
with  the  true  Christmas  spirit, 
author  shows  to  rich. children  and  poor 
children  alike  a  visible  Santa  Ciaus  who 
teaches  the  lesson  to  young  and  old  that 
the  faithful  friend  of  little  children  1 
veritable  existence.     There  are  felicitous 
touches  of   huuior   in   the   book  in 
author's  best  vein,  but  it  also  exhibits 
other  qualities — pathos,  tenderness,  hu- 
man kindness,  and  character-drawing  — 
that  will  make  the  readers  of  "A  Little 
Book  of  Christmas"  wish  that  he  would 
write  more  books  of  the  kind. 


Colored  Illustrations  by 
ARTHUR  E.   BECHER 


$1.00  net 


IAS 


BANGS 


A  LITTLE   BOOK    OF    CHRISTMAS 


"What  are  you  doing?"  he  asked,  drawing  near. 
FRONTISPIECE.    See  page  69. 


A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF 
CHRISTMAS 


BY 
JOHN   KENDRICK   BANGS 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

ARTHUR   E.   BECKER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    AND    COMPANY 

1912 


Copyright,  igi2i 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published,  September,  1912 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMONDS  &  CO.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


PAGE 


CONTENTS 

THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  .  5 
THE  CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT  —  47 
SANTA  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE  .  .87 
THE  HOUSE  or  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS  .  .129 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked, 
drawing  near  ....  Frontispiece 

She  stood  with  her  eyes  popping  out 
of  her  head PAGE  39 

He  thought  it  very  strange  that  Santa 
Claus'  hand  should  be  so  red  and 
cold  and  rough "  91 

One  by  one  the  prisoners  of  the  night 

dropped  in  surreptitiously        .  "     155 


A  TOAST  TO  SANTA  CLAUS 

WHENE'ER  I  find  a  man  who  don't 

Believe  in  Santa  Claus, 
And  spite  of  all  remonstrance  won't 

Yield  up  to  logic's  laws, 
And  see  in  things  that  lie  about 

The  proof  by  no  means  dim, 
I  straightway  cut  that  fellow  out, 

And  don't  believe  in  him. 

The  good  old  Saint  is  everywhere 

Along  life's  busy  way. 
We  find  him  in  the  very  air 

We  breathe  day  after  day  — 
Where  courtesy  and  kindliness 

And  love  are  joined  together, 
To  give  to  sorrow  and  distress 

A  touch  of  sunny  weather. 

We  find  him  in  the  maiden's  eyes 
Beneath  the  mistletoe, 


A  TOAST  TO  SANTA  CLAUS 

A-sparkling  as  the  star-lit  skies 

All  golden  in  their  glow. 
We  find  him  in  the  pressure  of 

The  hand  of  sympathy, 
And  where  there's  any  thought  of  love 

He's  mighty  sure  to  be. 

So  here's  to  good  old  Kindliheart! 

The  best  bet  of  them  all, 
Who  never  fails  to  do  his  part 

In  life's  high  festival; 
The  worthy  bearer  of  the  crown 

With  which  we  top  the  Saint. 
A  bumper  to  his  health,  and  down 

With  them  that  say  he  ain't! 


THE  CONVERSION  OF 
HETHERINGTON 


THE  CONVERSION  OF 
HETHERINGTON 


HETHERINGTON  wasn't  half  a 
bad  sort  of  a  fellow,  but  he 
had  his  peculiarities,  most  of 
which  were  the  natural  defects  of  a 
lack  of  imagination.  He  didn't  be- 
lieve in  ghosts,  or  Santa  Claus, 
or  any  of  the  thousands  of  other 
things  that  he  hadn't  seen  with  his 
own  eyes,  and  as  he  walked  home 
that  rather  chilly  afternoon  just  before 
Christmas  and  found  nearly  every  cor- 
ner of  the  highway  decorated  with 
bogus  Saints,  wearing  the  shoddy  re- 


6  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

galia  of  Kris-Kringle,  the  sight  made 
him  a  trifle  irritable.  He  had  had  a 
fairly  good  luncheon  that  day,  one 
indeed  that  ought  to  have  mellowed 
his  disposition  materially,  but  which 
somehow  or  other  had  not  so  resulted. 
In  fact,  Hetherington  was  in  a  state 
of  raspy  petulance  that  boded  ill  for 
his  digestion,  and  when  he  had  reached 
the  corner  of  Forty-second  Street  and 
Fifth  Avenue,  the  constant  iteration 
and  reiteration  of  these  shivering  fig- 
ures of  the  god  of  the  Yule  had  got 
on  his  nerves  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
make  him  aggressively  quarrelsome. 
He  had  controlled  the  asperities  of 
his  soul  tolerably  well  on  the  way  up- 
town, but  the  remark  of  a  small  child 
on  the  highway,  made  to  a  hurrying 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON   7 

mother,  as  they  passed  a  stalwart- 
looking  replica  of  the  idol  of  his  Christ- 
mas dreams,  banging  away  on  a  tam- 
bourine to  attract  attention  to  the  iron 
pot  before  him,  placed  there  to  catch 
the  pennies  of  the  charitably  inclined 
wayfarer  —  "  Oh,  mar,  there's  Sandy 
Claus  now!"  -was  too  much  for 
him. 

"Tush!  Nonsense!"  ejaculated 
Hetherington,  glowering  at  the  shiver- 
ing figure  in  the  turkey- red  robe. 
"  The  idea  of  filling  children's  minds 
up  with  such  balderdash!  Santa  Claus, 
indeed!  There  isn't  a  genuine  Santa 
Claus  in  the  whole  bogus  bunch." 

The  Saint  on  the  corner  banged 
his  tambourine  just  under  Hethering- 
ton's  ear  with  just  enough  force  to  jar 


8  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

loose  the  accumulated  irascibility  of 
the  well-fed  gentleman. 

"  This  is  a  fine  job  for  an  able- 
bodied  man  like  you!  "  said  Hether- 
ington  with  a  sneer.  "  Why  don't  you 
go  to  work  instead  of  helping  to  per- 
petuate this  annual  fake?  " 

The  Saint  looked  at  him  for  a  mo- 
ment before  replying. 

"  Speakin'  to  me?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes.  I'm  speaking  to  you,"  said 
Hetherington.  "  Here's  the  whole 
country  perishing  for  the  lack  of  labor, 
and  in  spite  of  that  fact  this  town  has 
broken  out  into  a  veritable  rash  of 
fake  Santa  Clauses — r 

"That'll  do  for  you!"  retorted 
Santa  Claus.  "  It's  easy  enough  for  a 
feller  with  a  stomach  full  o'  victuals 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON   9 

and  plenty  of  warm  clothes  on  his 
back  to  jump  on  a  hard-workin'  fel- 
ler like  me  —  " 

"  Hard-working? ''  echoed  Hether- 
ington.  "  I  like  that!  You  don't  call 
loafing  on  a  street  corner  this  way  all 
day  long  hard  work,  do  you?  ' 

He  rather  liked  the  man's  spirit, 
despite  his  objection  to  his  occupation. 

"  Suppose  you  try  it  once  and  find 
out,"  retorted  Santa  Claus,  blowing 
on  his  bluish  fingers  in  an  effort  to 
restore  their  clogged-up  circulation. 
"  I  guess  if  you  tried  a  job  like  this 
just  once,  standin'  out  in  the  cold 
from  eight  in  the  mornin'  to  ten  at 
night,  with  nothin'  but  a  cup  o'  coffee 
and  a  ham-sandwich  inside  o'  you  —  " 

"  What's  that?  "  cried  Hetherington, 


10  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

aghast.    "  Is  that  all  you've  had  to  eat 
to-day?"  i| 

"That's  all,"  said  the  Saint,  as  he 
turned  to  his  work  with  the  tambourine. 
"  Try  it  once,  mister,  and  maybe  you 
won't  feel  so  cock-sure  about  its  not 
bein'  work.  If  you're  half  the  sport 
you  think  you  are  just  take  my  place 

for  a  couple  of  hours." 

p 

An  appeal  to  his  sporting  instinct 
was  never  lost  on  Hetherington. 

"  By  George!  "  he  cried.  "  I'll  go 
you.  I'll  swap  coats  with  you,  and 
while  you're  filling  your  stomach  up 
I'll  take  your  place,  all  right." 

"  What'll  I  fill  me  stomach  up 
with?  "  demanded  the  man.  "  I  don't 
look  like  a  feller  with  a  meal-ticket 
in  his  pocket,  do  I  ?  " 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  n 

"  I'll  take  care  of  that,"  said  Hether- 
ington,  taking  out  a  roll  of  bills  and 
peeling  off  a  two-dollar  note  from  the 
outside.  "  There  —  you  take  that  and 
blow  yourself,  and  I'll  take  care  of  the 
kitty  here  till  you  come  back." 

The  exchange  of  externals  was  not 
long  in  accomplishment.  The  gather- 
ing of  the  shadows  of  night  made  it  a 
comparatively  easy  matter  to  arrange 
behind  a  conveniently  stalled  and  heav- 
ily laden  express  wagon  hard  by,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  irascible  but 
still  "  sporty  "  Hetherington,  who  from 
childhood  up  to  the  present  had  never 
been  able  to  take  a  dare,  found  him- 
self banging  away  on  a  tambourine  and 
incidentally  shivering  in  the  poor  red 
habiliments  of  a  fraudulent  Saint.  For 


12  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

a  half-hour  the  novelty  of  his  position 
gave  him  a  certain  thrill,  and  no  Santa 
Claus  in  town  that  night  fulfilled 
his  duties  more  vociferously  than  did 
Hetherington;  but  as  time  passed  on, 
and  the  chill  of  a  windy  corner  began 
to  penetrate  his  bones,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  frosty  condition  of  his  ears, 
which  his  false  cotton  whiskers  but 
indifferently  protected,  he  began  to 
tire  of  his  bargain. 

"Gosh!"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
as  it  began  to  snow,  and  certain  pass- 
ing truckmen  hurled  the  same  kind 
of  guying  comments  at  him  as  had 
been  more  or  less  in  his  mind  when- 
ever he  had  passed  a  fellow-Santa- 
Claus  on  his  way  up-town,  "  if  General 
Sherman  were  here  he'd  find  a  twin- 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  13 

brother  to  War!  I  wish  that  cuss 
would  come  back." 

He  gazed  eagerly  up  and  down  the 
street  in  the  hope  that  the  departed 
original  would  heave  in  sight,  but  in 
vain.  A  two-dollar  meal  evidently 
possessed  attractions  that  he  wished 
to  linger  over. 

"  Can't  stand  this  much  longer!  " 
he  muttered  to  himself,  and  then  his 
eye  caught  sight  of  a  group  that  filled 
his  soul  with  dismay:  two  policemen 
and  the  struggling  figure  of  one  who 
appeared  to  have  looked  not  wisely  but 
too  well  upon  the  cup  that  cheers,  the 
latter  wearing  Hetherington's  over- 
coat and  Hetherington's  hat,  but  whose 
knees  worked  upon  hinges  of  their  own, 
double-back-action  hinges  that  made 


14  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

his  legs  of  no  use  whatsoever,  either 
to  himself  or  to  anybody  else. 

"  Hi  there!  "  Hetherington  cried  out, 
as  the  group  passed  up  the  street  on 
the  way  to  the  station-house.  "  That 
fellow's  got  my  overcoat  —  " 

But  the  only  reply  Hetherington  got 
was  a  sturdy  poke  in  the  ribs  from  the 
night-stick  of  the  passing  officer. 

"Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!"  growled 
Hetherington. 


II 

Ten  minutes  later  a  passing  taxi  was 
hailed  by  a  shivering  gentleman  carry- 
ing an  iron  pot  full  of  pennies  and 
nickels  and  an  occasional  quarter  in 
one  hand,  and  a  turkey-red  coat, 
trimmed  with  white  cotton  cloth, 
thrown  over  his  arm.  Strange  to  say, 
considering  the  inclemency  of  the  night, 
he  wore  neither  a  hat  nor  an  overcoat. 

"  Where  to,  sir?  "  queried  the  chauf- 
feur. 

',"  The  police-station,"  said  Hether- 
ington.  "  I  don't  know  where  it  is, 
but  the  one  in  this  precinct  is  the 
one  I  want." 

"  Ye'll  have  to  pay  by  the  hour  to- 


1 6  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

night,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur.  "  The 
station  ain't  a  half-mile  away,  sir, 
but  Heaven  knows  how  long  it'll  take 
us  to  get  there." 

"  Charge  what  you  please,"  retorted 
Hetherington.  "  I'll  buy  your  darned 
old  machine  if  it's  necessary,  only  get 


a  move  on.': 


The  chauffeur,  with  some  misgivings 
as  to  the  mental  integrity  of  his  fare, 
started  on  their  perilous  journey,  and 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  later  drew 
up  in  front  of  the  police-station,  where 
Hetherington,  having  been  compelled 
in  self-defense  to  resume  the  habili- 
ments of  Santa  Claus  under  penalty 
of  freezing,  alighted. 

"  Just  wait,  will  you?  "  he  said,  as  he 
alighted  from  the  cab. 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  17 

"  I'll  go  in  with  you,"  said  the 
chauffeur,  acting  with  due  caution. 
He  had  begun  to  fear  that  there  was 
a  fair  chance  of  his  having  trouble 
getting  his  fare  out  of  a  very  evident 
lunatic. 

Utterly  forgetful  of  his  appearance 
in  his  festal  array,  Hetherington  bustled 
into  the  station,  and  shortly  found 
himself  standing  before  the  sergeant 
behind  the  desk. 

"Well,  Santa  Claus,"  said  the 
official,  with  an  amused  glance  at  the 
intruder,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you  to- 
night? There  ain't  many  rooms  with 
a  bath  left." 

Hetherington  flushed.  He  had  in- 
tended to  greet  the  sergeant  with  his 
most  imposing  manner,  but  this  turkey- 


i8  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

red  abomination  on  his  back  had  thrust 
dignity  out  in  the  cold. 

"  I  have  come,  officer,"  he  said,  as 
impressively  as  he  could  under  the 
circumstances,  "  to  make  some  in- 
quiries concerning  a  man  who  was 
brought  here  about  an  hour  ago-- I 
fear  in  a  state  of  intoxication." 

"  We  have  known  such  things  to 
happen  here,  Santa,"  said  the  officer, 
suavely.  "  In  fact,  this  blotter  here 
seems  to  indicate  that  one  George  W. 
Hetherington,  of  561  Fifth  Avenue  —  " 

"Who?"  roared  Hetherington. 

"  George  W.  Hetherington  is  the 
name  on  the  blotter,"  said  the  ser- 
geant; "  entered  first  as  a  D.  D.,  but 
on  investigation  found  to  be  suffering 
from  —  " 


THE   CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON    19 

"But  that's  my  name!'3  cried 
Hetherington.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  he  claimed  to  be  George  W. 
Hetherington?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  The 
poor  devil  didn't  make  any  claims 
for  himself  at  all.  We  found  that 
name  on  a  card  in  his  hat,  and  a  letter 
addressed  to  the  same  name  in  his 
overcoat  pocket.  Puttin'  the  two 
together  we  thought  it  was  a  good 
enough  identification." 

"  Well,  I'll  have  you  to  under- 
stand, sergeant  —  "  bristled  Hether- 
ington, cockily. 

"  None  o'  that,  Santa  Claus  —  none 
o'  that!  "  growled  the  sergeant,  lean- 
ing over  the  desk  and  eying  him 
coldly.  "  I  don't  know  what  game 


20  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

you're  up  to,  but  just  one  more  peep 
in  that  tone  and  there'll  be  two  George' 
W.   Hetheringtons   in  the  cooler    this 
night." 

Hetherington  almost  tore  the  Santa 
Claus  garb  from  his  shoulders,  and 
revealed  himself  as  a  personage  of  fine 
raiment  underneath,  whatever  he  might 
have  appeared  at  a  superficial  glance. 
As  he  did  so  a  crumpled  piece  of  paper 
fell  to  the  floor  from  the  pocket  of  the 
turkey-red  coat. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  do  anything  but 
what  is  right,  sergeant,"  he  said,  con- 
trolling his  wrath,  "  but  what  I  do 
want  is  to  impress  it  upon  your  mind 
that  7  am  George  W.  Hetherington, 
and  that  having  my  name  spread  on 
the  blotter  of  a  police  court  isn't  going 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON     21 

to  do  me  any  good.  I  loaned  that 
fellow  my  hat  and  coat  to  get  a  square 
meal,  while  I  took  his  place  - 

The  officer  grinned  broadly,  but 
with  no  assurance  in  his  smile  that  he 
believed. 

"  Oh,  you  may  not  believe  it,"  said 
Hetherington,  "  but  it's  true,  and  if 
this  thing  gets  into  the  papers  to- 
morrow morning  - 

"  Say,  Larry,"  said  the  sergeant, 
addressing  an  officer  off  duty,  "  did 
the  reporters  copy  that  letter  we  found 
in  Hetherington's  pocket?  " 

"  Reporters?  "  gasped  Hetherington. 
"  Good  Lord,  man  —  yuh-you  don't 
mum-mean  to  say  yuh-you  let  the 
reporters  - 

"  No,  chief,"  replied  Larry.    "  They 


22  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

ain't  been  in  yet  —  I  t'ink  ye  shoved  it 
inter  yer  desk." 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  did,"  grinned  the 
sergeant.  Here  he  opened  the  drawer 
in  front  of  him  and  extracted  a  pretty 
little  blue  envelope  which  Hethering- 
ton  immediately  recognized  as  a  par- 
ticularly private  and  confidential  com- 
munication from  —  well,  somebody. 
This  is  not  a  cherchez  la  femme  story, 
so  we  will  leave  the  lady's  name  out 
of  it  altogether.  It  must  be  noted, 
however,  that  a  sight  of  that  dainty 
missive  in  the  great  red  fist  of  the 
sergeant  gave  Hetherington  a  heart 
action  that  fifty  packages  of  cigarettes 
a  day  could  hardly  inflict  upon  a  less 
healthy  man. 

"  That's  the  proof—"  cried  Hether- 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  23 

ington,  excitedly.    "  If  that  don't  prove 
it's  my  overcoat  nothing  will." 

"  Right  you  are,  Santa  Claus,"  said 
the  sergeant,  opening  the  envelope 
and  taking  out  the  delicately  scented 
sheet  of  paper  within.  "  I'll  give  you 
two  guesses  at  the  name  signed  to 
this,  and  if  you  get  it  right  once  I'll 
give  you  the  coat,  and  Mr.  Hethering- 
ton  Number  One  in  our  evening's 
consignment  of  Hetheringtons  gets  re- 
christened." 

"  '  Anita  '!  "  growled  Hetherington. 

"  You  win!  "  said  the  sergeant,  hand- 
ing over  the  letter. 

Hetherington  drew  a  long  sigh  of 
relief. 

'  I    guess   this    is   worth   cigars   for 
the  house,   sergeant,"  he  said.     "  I'll 


24  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

send  'em  round  to-morrow  —  mean- 
while, how  about  —  how  about  the 
other?" 

"  He's  gone  to  the  hospital,"  said 
the  sergeant,  grimly.  "  The  doctor 
says  he  wasn't  drunk  —  just  another 
case  of  freezing  starvation." 

"Starvation?  And  I  guyed  him! 
Great  God!  "  muttered  Hetherington 
to  himself. 


Ill 

"  Narrow  escape,  Mr.  Hethering- 
ton," said  the  sergeant.  "  Ought  to 
be  a  lesson  to  you  sports.  What  was 
your  game,  anyhow? ' 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  any  game  -  '  began 
Hetherington. 

"Huh!  Just  a  case  of  too  much 
lunch,  eh?  "  said  the  officer.  "  You'd 
had  as  much  too  much  as  the  other 
feller'd  had  too  little  —  that  it?" 

"  No,"  said  Hetherington.  "  Just 
a  general  lack  of  confidence  in  my  fel- 
low-men, plus  a  cussed  habit  of  but- 
ting into  matters  that  aren't  any  of 
my  business;  but  I'm  glad  I  butted  in, 


26  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

just  the  same,  if  I  can  be  of  any  earthly 
use  to  that  poor  devil  of  a  Santa  Claus. 
Do  you  suppose  there's  any  way  to 
find  out  who  he  is  ?  " 

"  Well,  we've  made  a  good  start, 
anyhow,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  We've 
found  out  who  he  isn't.  When  he 
comes  to  in  the  mornin',  if  he  does, 
maybe  he'll  be  able  to  help  us  identify 
him." 

"To-morrow!"  murmured  Hether- 
ington.  "  And  who  knows  but  he's 
got  a  family  waiting  for  him  some- 
where right  now,  and  as  badly  off  as 
he  is." 

"  Ye  dropped  this,  sir,"  said  Larry, 
the  officer  off  duty.  "  It  come  out  of 
the  red  coat  —  mebbe  it'll  help  - 

He      handed      Hetherington      the 


THE   CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON     27 

crumpled  piece  of  paper  that  had 
fallen  to  the  floor  when  he  tore  Santa 
Claus's  cloak  from  his  back.  It  was 
sadly  dirty,  but  on  one  side  of  it  was 
a  childish  scrawl  in  pencil.  Hether- 
ington  ran  over  it  rapidly,  and 
gulped. 

"  Read  that,  sergeant!  "  he  said, 
huskily. 

The  sergearlt  read  the  following: 

"DEAR  SANDY  CLORS:  —  my  Popper 
says  hell  hand  you  this  here  leter  when 
he  sees  you  to  ast  you  not  to  fergit 
me  and  jimmy  like  you  did  last  yeer. 
you  aint  been  to  see  me  an  jimmy  since 
popper  lost  his  Jobb  and  he  says  its 
becoz  you  lost  our  adres  so  ime  ritin 
to  tell  you  weve  moved  since  you  come 
the  lass  time  and  am  now  Hvin  now  on 
the  Topp  flor  of  fore  69  varrick  streete 


28  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

noo  york  which  youd  ort  not  to  find 
it  hard  to  git  down  the  chimbley  bein 
on  the  topp  flor  closte  to  the  roofe 
so  i  thort  ide  rite  and  tell  you  what  me 
and  jimmyd  like  to  hav  you  bring  us 
wenn  you  come.  I  nede  some  noo 
shues  and  a  hatt  and  my  lasst  dol 
babys  all  wore  out  and  sum  candy  if 
you  can  work  it  in  sumhow,  not  havin 
had  much  since  popper  lost  his  jobb, 
and  jimmies  only  gott  one  mitt  left 
and  his  shues  is  wore  throo  like  mine  is 
only  a  little  worser,  and  a  baseball  batt 
and  hed  like  sum  candy  to.  if  there 
wass  anything  lefFt  ovvur  for  us  from 
lass  crissmis  wich  you  dident  kno 
ware  to  find  us  to  giv  it  to  us  we  wud- 
dent  mind  havin  that  two  but  you 
needent  mind  about  that  if  its  miss- 
layde  we  can  git  along  all  rite  all  rite 
on  whot  ive  sed  alreddy.  ime  leven  and 
jimmies  nine  and  we  hope  youl  hav 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  29 

a  mery  crismiss  like  wede  hav  if  youd 
come  to  see  us. 

"  yure  efexinite  frend  mary  muligan. 

"  p.  s  dont  fergit  the  adres  topp 
flor  469  varrick  strete  noo  york.  take 
back  chimbley  middel  floo." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Mr.  Hethering- 
ton,"  said  the  sergeant,  clearing  his 
throat  with  vociferous  unction,  "  that 
the  town's  full  of  Mary  and  Jimmie 
Mulligans  —  but,  anyhow,  I  guess  this 
is  good  enough  evidence  for  me  to 
scratch  out  your  name  and  enter  the 
record  under  James  Mulligan." 

"  Thank  you,  sergeant,"  said  Hether- 
ington,  gratefully.  "  And  it's  good 
enough  evidence  for  me  that  this  town 
needs  a  Santa  Claus  a  blooming  sight 


30  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

more  than  I  thought  it  did.  What 
time  is  it?  " 

"  Seven-thirty,"  replied  the  ser- 
geant. 

"Good!"  said  Hetherington. 
"  Shops  don't  close  till  ten  —  I  guess 
I've  got  time.  Good  night  —  see  you 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  Come  along, 
chauffeur,  I'll  need  you  for  some  time 

yet." 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Hetherington," 
said  the  sergeant.  "  Where  are  you 
bound  in  case  I  need  you  any  time? ': 

"Me?"  said  Hetherington  with  a 
grin,  "  why,  my  address  is  561  Fifth 
Avenue,  but  just  now  I'm  off  to  do  my 
Christmas  shopping  early." 

And  resuming  possession  of  his  own 
hat  and  overcoat,  and  taking  the  Santa 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON    31 

Claus  costume  under  his  arm,  Hether- 
ington  passed  out,  the  chauffeur  fol- 
lowing. 

"  These  New  York  sports  is  a  queer 
bunch!  "  said  the  sergeant  as  Hether- 
ington  disappeared. 


IV 

At  half-past  nine  down-town  was 
pretty  well  deserted,  which  made  it 
easy  for  the  chauffeur  of  a  certain  red 
taxi-cab  to  make  fairly  good  time  down 
Broadway;  and  when  at  nine-forty- 
five  the  panting  mechanism  drew  up 
before  the  grim  walls  of  a  brick  tene- 
ment, numbered  469  Varick  Street,  the 
man  on  the  box  was  commendably 
proud  of  his  record. 

"  That  was  goin'  some,  sir,"  he  said, 
with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face.  "  I. 
don't  believe  it's  ever  been  done  quicker 
outside  o'  the  fire  department." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  has,  old  man," 
said  Hetherington  as  he  alighted. 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON    33 

"  Now  if  you'll  help  me  up-stairs 
with  these  packages  and  that  basket 
there,  we'll  bring  this  affair  to  a 
grand-stand  finish." 

The  two  men  toiled  slowly  up  the 
stairs,  Hetherington  puffing  somewhat 
with  the  long  climb;  and  when  finally 
they  had  reached  the  top  floor  he 
arrayed  himself  in  the  once  despised 
garb  of  Santa  Claus  again.  Then  he 
knocked  at  the  door.  The  answer 
was  immediate.  A  white-faced  woman 
opened  the  door. 

"  Jim!"  she  cried.     "Is  it  you?" 

"  No,  madam,"  replied  Hethering- 
ton. "  It's  a  friend  of  Jim's.  Fact  is, 
Mrs.  Mulligan,  Jim  has  - 

"  There's  nothin'  happened  to  Jim, 
has  there?  "  she  interrupted. 


34  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  Nothing  at  all,  madam,  nothing 
at  all,"  said  Hetherington.  "The 
work  was  a  little  too  much  for  him 
to-day  —  that's  all  —  and  he  keeled 
over.  He's  safe,  and  comfortable  in  the 
—  well,  they  took  him  to  the  hospital, 
but  don't  you  worry  —  he'll  be  all  right 
in  a  day  or  two,  and  meanwhile  I'm 
going  to  look  after  you  and  the  kiddies." 

The  chauffeur  placed  the  basket 
inside  the  door. 

"  You'll  find  a  small  turkey,  and  some 
-  er  —  some  fixings  in  it,  Mrs.  Mulli- 
gan," said  Hetherington.  "  Whatever 
ought  to  go  with  a  turkey  should  be 
there,  and  —  er  —  have  the  kiddies 
gone  to  bed?  " 

"  Poor  little  souls,  they  have,"  said 
the  woman. 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON    35 

"  Well,  just  you  tell  'em  for  me," 
said  Hetherington,  "  that  Santa  Claus 
received  little  Mary's  letter,  will  you, 
please?  And  —  er  —  and  if  they  don't 
mind  a  very  late  call  like  this,  why  I'd 
like  to  see  them."  . 

The  woman  looked  anxiously  into 
Hetherington's  eyes  for  a  moment, 
and  then  she  tottered  and  sat 
down. 

"  You're  sure  there's  nothin'  the 
matter  with  Jim,  sir?  "  she  asked. 

"  Absolutely,  Mrs.  Mulligan," 
Hetherington  answered.  "  It's  ex- 
actly as  I  have  told  you.  The  cold 
and  hunger  were  too  much  for  him, 
but  he's  all  right,  and  I'll  guarantee 
to  have  him  back  here  inside  of  forty- 
eight  hours." 


36          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"I'll  call  the  childer,"  said  Mrs. 
Mulligan. 

Two  wide-eyed  youngsters  shortly 
stood  in  awed  wonder  before  their 
strange  visitor,  never  doubting  for  a 
moment  that  he  was  Santa  Claus 
himself. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Mulligan?  " 
said  Hetherington,  with  a  courtly  bow 
to  the  little  tot  of  a  girl.  "  I  received 
your  letter  this  afternoon,  and  was 
mighty  glad  to  hear  from  you  again, 
but  I've  been  too  busy  all  day  to  write 
you  in  return,  so  I  thought  I'd  call 
and  tell  you  that  it's  all  right  about 
those  shoes,  and  the  hat,  and  the  new 
doll-baby,  and  the  things  for  Jimmie. 
Fact  is,  I've  brought  'em  with  me. 
Reginald,"  he  added,  turning  to  the 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON     37 

chauffeur,  who  stood  grinning  in  the 
doorway,  "  just  unfasten  that  bundle 
of  shoes,  will  you,  while  I  get  Jimmie's 
new  mitts  and  the  base-ball  bat?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur,  suit- 
ing his  action  to  the  orders,  and  with 
a  right  good  will  that  was  pleasant  to 
see. 

"  Reginald  is  my  assistant,"  said 
Santa  Claus.  "  Couldn't  get  along 
without  Reginald  these  days  —  very 
busy  days  they  are  —  so  many  new 
kiddies  in  the  world,  you  know.  There, 
Jimmie -- there's  your  bat.  May  you 
score  many  a  home-run  with  it.  Here's 
a  ball,  too  —  good  thing  to  have  a  ball 
to  practise  with.  Some  day  you'll  be 
a  Giant,  perhaps,  and  help  win  the 
pennant.  Incidentally,  James,  old  boy, 


38  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

there's  a  box  of  tin  soldiers  in  this  pack- 
age, a  bag  of  marbles,  a  select  assort- 
ment of  tops,  and  a  fur  coat;  just  try 
that  cap  on,  and  see  if  you  can  tell 
yourself  from  a  Brownie." 

The  children's  eyes  gleamed  with 
joy,  and  Jimmie  let  out  a  cheer  that 
would  have  aroused  the  envy  of  a 
college  man. 

"  You  didn't  mention  it  in  your 
note,  Mary,  dear,"  continued  Santa 
Claus,  turning  to^the  little  girl,  "but 
I  thought  you  might  like  to  cook  a  few 
meals  for  this  brand-new  doll-baby 
of  yours,  so  I  brought  along  a  little 
stove,  with  a  few  pots  and  pans  and 
kettles  and  things,  with  a  small  china 
tea-set  thrown  in.  This  ought  to 
enable  you  to  set  her  up  in  house- 


She  stood  with  her  eyes  popping  out  of  her  head.    Page  39. 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON     39 

keeping;  and  then  when  you  go  to 
school  I  have  an  idea  you'll  find  this 
little  red-riding-hood  cloak  rather  nice 
-  only  it's  navy  blue  instead  of  red, 
and  it  looks  warm." 

Hetherington  placed  the  little  cloak 
with  its  beautiful  brass  buttons  and 
its  warm  hood  over  the  little  girl's 
shoulders,  while  she  stood  with  her 
eyes  popping  out  of  her  head,  too  de- 
lightedly entranced  to  be  able  to  say 
a  word  of  thanks. 

"  Don't  forget  this,  sir,"  said  the 
chauffeur,  handing  Hetherington  a 
package  tied  up  in  blue  ribbons. 

"  And  finally,"  said  Hetherington, 
after  thanking  Reginald  for  the  re- 
minder, "  here  is  a  box  of  candy  for 
everybody  in  the  place.  One  for  Mary, 


40  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

one  for  Jimmie,  one  for  mother,  and 
one  for  popper  when  he  comes  home." 

"  Oh  thank  you,  thank  you,  thank 
you !  "  cried  the  little  girl,  throwing 
herself  into  Hetherington's  arms.  "  I 
knowed  you'd  come  —  I  did,  I  did, 
I  did!" 

"  You  believed  in  old  Santa  Claus, 
did  you,  babe?  "  said  Hetherington, 
huskily,  as  the  little  girl's  warm  cheek 
pressed  against  his  own. 

"  Yes,  I  did  —  always,"  said  the 
little  girl,  "  though  Jimmie  didn't." 

"  I  did  so!  "  retorted  Jimmie,  squat- 
ting on  the  floor  and  shooting  a  glass 
agate  at  a  bunch  of  miggles  across  the 
room.  "  I  swatted  Petey  Halloran  on 
the  eye  on'y  yesterday  for  sayin' 
they  wasn't  no  such  person." 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  HETHERINGTON  41 

"  And  you  did  well,  my  son,"  said 
Hetherington.     "  The  man  or  boy  that 
says  there  isn't  any  Santa  Claus  is  a  - 
is  a  --  well,  never  you  mind,  but  he  is 
one  just  the  same." 

And  bidding  his  little  friends  good 
night,  Hetherington,  with  the  chauffeur 
close  behind  him,  left  them  to  the  joys 
of  the  moment,  with  a  cheerier  dawn 
than  they  had  known  for  many  weary 
days  to  follow. 


V 

"  Good  night,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur, 
as  Hetherington  paid  him  off  and  added 
a  good-sized  tip  into  the  bargain.  "  I 
didn't  useter  believe  in  Santa  Claus, 
sir,  but  I  do  now." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Hetherington,  as 
he  bade  the  other  good  night  and 
lightly  mounted  the  steps  to  his  house. 


A   MERRY   CHRISTMAS   PIE 

TAKE  a  quart  of  pure  Good  Will, 

Flavor  well  with  Sympathy; 
Boil  it  on  the  fire  till 

It  is  full  of  bubbling  Glee. 
Season  with  a  dash  of  Cheer, 

Mixed  with  Love  and  Tenderness; 
Cool  off  in  an  atmosphere 

That  is  mostly  Kindliness. 

Stick  a  dozen  raisins  in 

Made  of  grapes  from  Laughter's  vine, 
And  such  fruits  as  you  may  win 

In  a  purely  Jocund  line. 
Make  a  batter  from  the  cream 

Of  Good  Spirits  running  high, 
And  you'll  have  a  perfect  dream 

Of  a  Merry  Christmas  pie  I 


THE   CHILD  WHO  HAD 
EVERYTHING   BUT  — 


THE   CHILD  WHO  HAD 
EVERYTHING   BUT  — 


I  KNEW  it  was  coming  long  before 
it  got  there.  Every  symptom  was 
in  sight.  I  had  grown  fidgety,  and 
sat  fearful  of  something  overpoweringly 
impending.  Strange  noises  filled  the 
house.  Things  generally,  according  to 
their  nature,  severally  creaked,  soughed 
and  moaned.  There  was  a  ghost  on  the 
way.  That  was  perfectly  clear  to  an 
expert  in  uncanny  visitations  of  my 
wide  experience,  and  I  heartily  wished 
it  were  not.  There  was  a  time  when  1 


48  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

welcomed  such  visitors  with  open  arms, 
because  there  was  a  decided  demand 
for  them  in  the  literary  market,  and  I 
had  been  able  to  turn  a  great  variety 
of  spooks  into  anywhere  from  three 
thousand  to  five  thousand  words  apiece 
at  five  cents  a  word,  but  now  the  age 
had  grown  too  sceptical  to  swallow 
ghostly  reminiscence  with  any  degree 
of  satisfaction.  People  had  grown 
tired  of  hearing  about  Visions,  and 
desired  that  their  tales  should  reek 
with  the  scent  of  gasoline,  quiver  with 
the  superfervid  fever  of  tangential 
loves,  and  crash  with  moral  thunder- 
bolts aimed  against  malefactors  of 
great  achievement  and  high  social  and 
commercial  standing.  Wherefore  it 
seemed  an  egregious  waste  of  time  for 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT-      49 

me  to  dally  with  a  spook,  or  with 
anything  else,  for  that  matter,  that 
had  no  strictly  utilitarian  value  to 
one  so  professionally  pressed  as  I  was, 
and  especially  at  a  moment  like  that 
—  it  was  Christmas  morning  and  the 
hour  was  twenty-eight  minutes  after 
two  —  when  I  was^so  busy  preparing 
my  Ode  to  June,  and  trying  to  work 
out  the  details  of  a  midsummer  ro- 
mance in  time  for  the  market  for 
such  productions  early  in  the  coming 
January. 

And  right  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
pressure  there  rose  up  these  beastly 
symptoms  of  an  impending  visitation. 
At  first  I  strove  to  fight  them  off,  but 
as  the  minutes  passed  they  became  so 
obsessively  intrusive  that  I  could  not 


50          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

concentrate  upon  the  work  in  hand, 
and  I  resolved  to  have  it  over  with. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  I,  striking  a  few 
impatient  chords  upon  my  typewriting 
machine,  "  if  you  insist  upon  coming, 
come,  and  let's  have  done  with  it." 

I  roared  this  out,  addressing  the 
dim  depths  of  the  adjoining  apart- 
ment, whence  had  risen  the  first  dank 
apprehension  of  the  uncanny  some- 
thing that  had  come  to  pester  me. 

"  This  is  my  busy  night,"  I  went  on, 
when  nothing  happened  in  response  to 
my  summons,  "  and  I  give  you  fair 
warning  that,  however  psychic  I  may 
be  now,  I've  got  too  much  to  do  to 
stay  so  much  longer.  If  you're  going 
to  haunt,  haunt!  " 

It  was  in  response  to  this  appeal  that 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    51 

the  thing  first  manifested  itself  to  the 
eye.  It  took  the  shape  first  of  a  very 
slight  veil  of  green  fog,  which  shortly 
began  to  swirl  slowly  from  the  darkness 
of  the  other  room  through  the  inter- 
vening portieres  into  my  den.  Once 
within,  it  increased  the  vigor  of  its 
swirl,  until  almost  before  I  knew  it 
there  was  spinning  immediately  before 
my  desk  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
misty  maelstrom,  buzzing  around  like 
a  pin-wheel  in  action. 

"Very  pretty --very  pretty  in- 
deed," said  I,  a  trifle  sarcastically,  re- 
fusing to  be  impressed,  "  but  I  don't 
care  for  pyrotechnics.  I  suppose," 
I  added  flippantly,  "  that  you  are  what 
might  be  called  a  mince-pyrotechnic, 
eh?" 


$2  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

Whether  it  was  the  quality  of  my 
jest,  or  some  other  inward  pang  due 
to  its  gyratory  behavior,  that  caused 
it  I  know  not,  but  as  I  spoke  a  deep 
groan  issued  from  the  centre  of  the 
whirling  mist,  and  then  out  of  its  in- 
determinateness  there  was  resolved  the 
hazy  figure  of  an  angel  —  only,  she 
was  an  intensely  modern  angel.  She 
wore  a  hobble-skirt  instead  of  the 
usual  flowing  robes  of  ladies  of  the 
supernal  order,  and  her  halo,  instead 
of  hovering  over  her  head  as  used  to 
be  the  correct  manner  of  wearing  these 
hard-won  adornments,  had  perforce 
become  a  mere  golden  fillet  binding  to- 
gether the  great  mass  of  finger-curls  and 
other  distinctly  yellow  capillary  attrac- 
tions that  stretched  out  from  the  back 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—     53 

of  her  cerebellum  for  two  or  three  feet, 
like  a  monumental  psyche-knot.  I 
could  hardly  restrain  a  shudder  as  I 
realized  the  theatric  quality  of  the 
lady's  appearance,  and  I  honestly 
dreaded  the  possible  consequences  of 
her  visit.  We  live  in  a  tolerably  cen- 
sorious age,  and  I  did  not  care  to  be 
seen  in  the  company  of  such  a  peroxi- 
dized  vision  as  she  appeared  to  be. 

"  I  am  afraid,  madam,"  said  I, 
shrinking  back  against  the  wall  as 
she  approached  —  "I  am  very  much 
afraid  that  you  have  got  into  the  wrong 
house.  Mr.  Slatherberry,  the  theat- 
rical manager,  lives  next  door." 

She  paid  no  attention  to  this  obser- 
vation, but,  holding  out  a  compelling 
hand,  bade  me  come  along  with  her,  her 


54  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

voice  having  about  it  all  the  musical 
charm  of  an  oboe  suffering  from  bron- 
chitis. 

"  Not  in  a  year  of  Sundays  I  won't!  " 
I  retorted.  "  I  am  a  respectable  man, 
a  steady  church-goer,  a  trustee  for 
several  philanthropic  institutions,  and 
a  Sunday-School  teacher.  I  don't 
wish  to  be  impolite,  but  really,  madam, 
rich  as  I  am  in  reputation,  I  am  too 
poor  to  be  seen  in  public  with  you." 

"  I  am  a  spirit,"  she  began. 

"  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,"  I 
interjected,  and  I  could  see  that  she 
told  the  truth,  for  she  was  entirely 
diaphanous,  so  much  so  indeed  that 
one  could  perceive  the  piano  in  the 
other  room  with  perfect  clarity  through 
her  intervening  shadiness.  "  It  is, 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    55 

however,  the  unfortunate  fact  that 
I  have  sworn  off  spirits." 

"  None  the  less,"  she  returned,  her 
eye  flashing  and  her  hand  held  forth 
peremptorily,  "  you  must  come.  It 
is  your  predestined  doom." 

My  next  remark  I  am  not  wholly 
clear  about,  but,  as  I  remember  it, 
it  sounded  something  like  "  I'll  be 
doomed  if  I  do!  "  whereupon  she 
threatened  me. 

"  It  is  useless  to  resist,"  she  said. 
"  If  you  decline  to  come  volunta- 
rily, I  shall  hypnotize  you  and  force 
you  to  follow  me.  We  have  need  of 
you." 

"  But,  my  dear  lady,"  I  pleaded, 
:c  please  have  some  regard  for  my 
position.  I  never  did  any  of  you 


56  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

spirits  any  harm.  I've  treated  every 
visitor  from  the  spirit-land  with  the 
most  distinguished  consideration,  and 
I  feel  that  you  owe  it  to  me  to  be  re- 
gardful of  my  good  name.  Suppose 
you  take  a  look  at  yourself  in  yonder 
looking-glass,  and  then  say  if  you 
think  it  fair  to  compel  a  decent,  law- 
abiding  man,  of  domestic  inclinations 
like  myself,  to  be  seen  in  public  with 
—  well,  with  such  a  looking  head  of 
hair  as  that  of  yours." 

My  visitor  laughed  heartily. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,"  she  said,  most 
amiably,  "  we  can  arrange  matters  in 
a  jiffy.  Your  wife  possesses  a  hooded 
mackintosh,  does  she  not?  I  think 
I  saw  something  of  the  kind  hanging 
on  the  hat-rack  as  I  floated  in.  I 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT-       57 

will  wear  that  if  it  will  make  you  feel 
any  easier." 

"It  certainly  would,"  said  I;  "but 
see  here  —  can't  you  scare  up  some 
other  cavalier  to  escort  you  to  the  haven 
of  your  desires  ?  ': 

She  fixed  a  sternly  steady  eye  upon 
me  for  a  moment. 

"  Aren't  you  the  man  who  wrote 
the  lines, 

The  World's  a  green  and  gladsome  ball, 
And  Love's  the  Ruler  of  it  all, 
And  Life's  the  chance  vouchsafed  to  me 
For  Deeds  and  Gifts  of  Sympathy? 

Didn't  you  write  that?  "  she  demanded. 

"I   did,    madam,"    said   I,    "and   I 

meant  every  word  of  it,  but  what  of 

it?     Is  that  any  reason  why  I  should 


$8  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

be    seen    on    a    public    highway    with 
a  lady-ghost  of  your  especial  kind  ?  " 

"  Enough  of  your  objections,"  she 
retorted  firmly.  "  You  are  the  person 
for  whom  I  have  been  sent.  We  have 
a  case  needing  your  immediate  at- 
tention. The  only  question  is,  will 
you  come  pleasantly  and  of  your  own 
free  will,  or  must  I  resort  to  extreme 
measures  ?  " 

These  words  were  spoken  with  such 
determination  that  I  realized  that 
further  resistance  was  useless,  and  I 
yielded. 

"  All  right,"  said  I.  "  On  your  way. 
I'll  follow." 

"  Good!  "  she  cried,  her  face  wreath- 
ing with  a  pleasant  little  nile-green 
smile.  "  Get  the  mackintosh,  and 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—     59 

we'll  be  off.  There's  no  time  to  lose," 
she  added,  as  the  clock  in  the  tower 
on  the  square  boomed  out  the  hour  of 
three. 

"What  is  this  anyhow?"  I  de- 
manded, as  I  helped  her  on  with  the 
mackintosh  and  saw  that  the  hood 
covered  every  vestige  of  that  awful 
coiffure.  "  Another  case  of  Scrooge?  " 

"  Sort  of,"  she  replied  as,  hooking 
her  arm  in  mine,  she  led  me  forth 
into  the  night. 


II 

We  passed  over  to  Fifth  Avenue, 
and  proceeded  uptown  at  a  pace  which 
reminded  me  of  the  active  gait  of  my 
youth.  My  footsteps  had  grown  un- 
wontedly  light,  and  we  covered  the 
first  ten  blocks  in  about  three  minutes. 

"  We  don't  seem  to  be  headed  for 
the  slums,"  I  panted. 

"  Indeed,  we  are  not,"  she  retorted. 
"  There  is  no  need  of  carrying  coals 
to  Newcastle  on  this  occasion.  This 
isn't  a  slum  case.  It's  far  more  acute 
than  that." 

A  tear  came  forth  from  her  eye  and 
trickled  down  over  the  mackintosh. 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—     6 1 

"  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  modern  effort 
on  behalf  of  suffering  humanity,"  she 
went  on,  "  that  it  is  concentrated  upon 
the  relief  of  the  misery  of  the  so-called 
j^&merged,  to  the  utter  neglect  of 
the  often  more  poignant  needs  of  the 
emerged.  We  have  workers  by  the 
thousand  in  the  slums,  doing  all  that 
can  be  done,  and  successfully  too,  to 
relieve  the  unhappy  condition  of  the 
poor,  but  nobody  ever  seems  to  think 
of  the  sorrows  of  the  starving  hundreds 
on  upper  Fifth  Avenue." 

"  See  here,  madam,"  said  I,  stop- 
ping suddenly  short  under  a  lamp-post 
in  front  of  the  Public  Library,  "  I  want 
to  tell  you  right  now  that  if  you  think 
you  are  going  to  take  me  into  any  of 
the  homes  of  the  hopelessly  rich  at 


62  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

this  hour  of  the  morning,  you  are  the 
most  mightily  mistaken  creature  that 
ever  wore  a  psyche-knot.  Why,  great 
heavens,  my  dear  lady,  suppose  the 
owner  of  the  house  were  to  wake  up 
and  demand  to  know  what  I  was  doing 
there  at  this  time  of  night?  What 
could  I  say?  " 

"  You  have  gone  on  slumming  parties, 
haven't  you?  "  she  demanded  coldly. 

"  Often,"  said  I.  "  But  that's  dif- 
ferent." 

"  Why? "  she  asked,  with  a  sim- 
plicity that  baffled  me.  "  Is  it  any 
worse  for  you  to  intrude  upon  the 
home  of  a  Fifth  Avenue  millionaire 
than  it  is  to  go  unasked  into  the  small, 
squalid  tenement  of  some  poor  sweat- 
shop worker  on  the  East  Side?  " 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    63 

"  Oh,  but  it's  different,"  I  protested. 
"  I  go  there  to  see  if  there  is  anything 
I  can  do  to  relieve  the  unhappy  con- 
dition of  the  persons  who  live  in  the 
slums." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  she.  "  I'll  take 
your  word  for  it,  but  is  that  any 
reason  why  you  should  neglect  the 
sufferers  who  live  in  these  marble 
palaces? ': 

As  she  spoke,  she  hooked  hold  of 
my  arm  once  more,  and  in  a  moment 
we  were  climbing  the  front  door  steps 
of  a  palatial  residence.  The  house 
showed  a  dark  and  forbidding  front 
at  that  hour  in  the  morning  despite 
its  marble  splendors,  and  I  was  glad 
to  note  that  the  massive  grille  doors  of 
wrought  iron  were  heavily  barred. 


64          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

.  "  It's  useless,  you  see.  We're  locked 
out,"  I  ventured. 

"Indeed?"  she  retorted,  with  a 
sarcastic  smile,  as  she  seized  my  hand 
in  her  icy  grip  and  literally  pulled  me 
after  her  through  the  marble  front  of 
the  dwelling.  "  What  have  we  to  do 
with  bolts  and  bars  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  I  ruefully, 
"  but  I  have  a  notion  that  if  I  don't 
bolt  I'll  get  the  bars  all  right." 

I  could  see  them  coming,  and  they 
were  headed  straight  for  me. 

"  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  follow  me," 
she  went  on,  as  we  floated  upward 
for  two  flights,  paying  but  little  atten- 
tion to  the  treasures  of  art  that  lined 
the  walls,  and  finally  passed  into  a 
superbly  lighted  salon,  more  daintily 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    65 

beautiful  than  anything  of  the  kind 
I  had  ever  seen  before. 

"Jove!"  I  ejaculated,  standing 
amazed  in  the  presence  of  such  luxury 
and  beauty.  "  I  did  not  realize  that 
with  all  her  treasures  New  York  held 
anything  quite  so  fine  as  this.  What 
is  it,  a  music-room? '' 

"  It  is  the  nursery,"  said  my  com- 
panion. "  Look  about  you  and  see 
for  yourself." 

I  did  as  I  was  bidden,  and  such  an 
array  of  toys  as  that  inspection  re- 
vealed! Truly  it  looked  as  if  the  toy- 
market  in  all  sections  of  the  world  had 
been  levied  upon  for  tribute.  Had  all 
the  famous  toy  emporiums  of  Nurem- 
berg itself  been  transported  thither 
bodily,  there  could  not  have  been  play- 


66  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

things  in  greater  variety  than  there 
greeted  my  eye.  From  the  most  in- 
significant of  tin-soldiers  to  the  most 
intricate  of  mechanical  toys  for  the 
delectation  of  the  youthful  mind,  noth- 
ing that  I  could  think  of  was  missing. 

The  tin-soldiers  as  ever  had  a  fasci- 
nation for  me,  and  in  an  instant  I  was 
down  upon  the  floor,  ranging  them  in 
their  serried  ranks,  while  the  face  of 
my  companion  wreathed  with  an  in- 
dulgent smile. 

"  You'll  do,"  said  she,  as  I  loaded 
a  little  spring-cannon  with  a  stub 
of  a  lead-pencil  and  bowled  over  half 
a  regiment  with  one  well-directed  shot. 

"  These  are  the  finest  tin-soldiers 
I  ever  saw! "  I  cried  with  enthusi- 
asm. 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—     67 

"  Only  they're  not  tin,"  said  she. 
"  Solid  silver,  every  man-jack  of  them 
-except  the  officers -- they're  made 
of  platinum." 

"  And  will  you  look  at  that  little 
electric  railroad!"  I  cried,  my  eye 
ranging  to  the  other  end  of  the  salon. 
"  Stations,  switches,  danger-signals, 
cars  of  all  kinds,  and  even  miniature 
Pullmans,  with  real  little  berths  that 
can  be  let  up  and  down  —  who  is  the 
lucky  kid  who's  getting  all  these  beau- 
tiful things?  " 

"Sh!"  she  whispered,  putting  her 
finger  to  her  lips.  "  He  is  coming  —  go 
on  and  play.  Pretend  you  don't  see 
him  until  he  speaks  to  you." 

As  she  spoke,  a  door  at  the  far  end 
of  the  apartment  swung  gently  open, 


68          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

and  a  little  boy  tiptoed  softly  in. 
He  was  a  golden-haired  little  chap, 
and  I  fell  in  love  with  his  soft,  dreamy 
eyes  the  moment  my  own  rested  upon 
them.  I  could  not  help  glancing  up 
furtively  to  see  his  joy  over  the  dis- 
covery of  all  these  wondrous  posses- 
sions, but  alas,  to  my  surprise,  there 
was  only  an  unemotional  stare  in  his 
eyes  as  they  swept  the  aggregation  of 
childish  treasures.  Then,  on  a  sudden, 
he  saw  me,  squatting  on  the  floor,  set- 
ting up  again  the  army  of  silver 
warriors. 

"  How  do  you  do?  "  he  said  gently, 
but  with  just  a  touch  of  weariness 
in  his  sad  little  voice. 

"  Good  morning,  and  a  Merry  Christ- 
mas to  you,  sir,"  I  replied. 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    69 

"What  are  you  doing?"  he  asked, 
drawing  near,  and  watching  me  with 
a  good  deal  of  seeming  curiosity. 

"  I  am  playing  with  your  sol- 
diers," said  I.  "  I  hope  you  don't 
mind?" 

"Oh,  no  indeed,"  he  replied;  "but 
what  do  you  mean  by  that?  What  is 
playing?  ': 

I  could  hardly  believe  my  ears. 

"What  is  what?"  said  I. 

"  You  said  you  were  playing,  sir," 
said  he,  "  and  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  you  mean." 

"  Why,"  said  I,  scratching  my  head 
hard  in  a  mad  quest  for  a  definition, 
for  I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  think 
of  the  answer  to  his  question  offhand, 
any  more  than  I  could  define  one  of 


70  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

the  elements.  "  Playing  is  —  why, 
it's  playing,  laddie.  Don't  you  know 
what  it  is  to  play?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  he.  "  It's  what  you 
do  on  the  piano  —  I've  been  taught 
to  play  on  the  piano,  sir." 

"  Oh,  but  this  is  different,"  said  I. 
"  This  kind  is  fun  —  it's  what  most 
little  boys  do  with  their  toys." 

"  You  mean  —  breaking  them?  " 
said  he. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  I.  "  It's  getting 
all  the  fun  there  is  out  of  them." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  do  that," 
said  he,  with  a  fixed  gaze  upon  the 
soldiers.  "  Can  a  little  fellow  like  me 
learn  to  play  that  way? ': 

"  Well,  rather,  kiddie,"  said  I,  reach- 
ing out  and  taking  him  by  the  hand. 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—     71 

"  Sit  down  here  on  the  floor  alongside 
of  me,  and  I'll  show  you." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  he,  drawing  back; 
"  I  -  -  I  can't  sit  on  the  floor.  I'd 
catch  cold." 

"  Now,  who  under  the  canopy  told 
you  that?  "  I  demanded,  somewhat 
impatiently,  I  fear. 

"  My  governesses  and  both  my 
nurses,  sir,"  said  he.  "  You  see,  there 
are  drafts  - 

"  Well,  there  won't  be  any  drafts 
this  time,"  said  I.  "  Just  you  sit 
down  here,  and  we'll  have  a  game  of 
marbles  —  ever  play  marbles  with  your 
father?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  He's  always 
too  busy,  and  neither  of  my  nurses 
has  ever  known  how." 


72  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  But  your  mother  comes  up  here 
and  plays  games  with  you  sometimes, 
doesn't  she?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mother  is  busy,  too,"  said  the 
child.  "  Besides,  she  wouldn't  care 
for  a  game  which  you  had  to  sit  on 
the  floor  to  —  " 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  lifted  him 
bodily  in  my  arms,  and,  after  squat- 
ting him  over  by  the  fireplace  where 
if  there  were  any  drafts  at  all  they 
would  be  as  harmless  as  a  summer 
breeze,  I  took  up  a  similar  position 
on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and 
initiated  him  into  the  mystery  of 
miggles  as  welPas  I  could,  considering 
that  all  his  marbles  were  real  agates. 

(  You  don't  happen  to  have  a  china- 
alley  anywhere,  do  you?  "  I  asked. 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    73 

"  No,  sir,"  he  answered.  "  We  only 
have  china  plates  - 

"  Never  mind,"  I  interrupted.  "  We 
can  get  along  very  nicely  with  these." 

And  then  for  half  an  hour,  despite 
the  rich  quality  of  our  paraphernalia, 
that  little  boy  and  I  indulged  in  a 
glorious  game  of  real  plebeian  miggs, 
and  it  was  a  joy  to  see  how  quickly 
his  stiff  little  fingers  relaxed  and 
adapted  themselves  to  the  uses  of  his 
eye,  which  was  as  accurate  as  it  was 
deeply  blue.  So  expert  did  he  become 
that  in  a  short  while  he  had  com- 
pletely cleaned  me  out,  giving  joyous 
little  cries  of  delight  with  every  hit, 
and  then  we  turned  our  attention  to 
the  soldiers. 

"  I    want    some    playing    now,"    he 


74  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

said  gleefully,  as  I  informed  him  that 
he  had  beaten  me  out  of  my  boots  at 
one  of  my  best  games.  "  Show  me 
what  you  were  doing  with  those  sol- 
diers when  I  came  in." 

"  All  right,"  said  I,  obeying  with 
alacrity.  "  First,  we'll  have  a  parade." 

I  started  a  great  talking-machine 
standing  in  one  corner  of  the  room  off 
on  a  spirited  military  march,  and  in- 
side of  ten  minutes,  with  his  assistance, 
I  had  all  the  troops  out  and  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  bravely  swinging 
by  to  the  martial  music  of  Sousa. 

"  How's  that?  "  said  I,  when  we  had 
got  the  whole  corps  arranged  to  our 
satisfaction. 

"  Fine!  "  he  cried,  jumping  up  and 
down  upon  the  floor  and  clapping  his 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    75 

hands  with  glee.  "  I've  got  lots  more 
of  these  stored  away  in  my  toy-closet," 
he  went  on,  "  but  I  never  knew  that 
you  could  do  such  things  as  this  with 
them." 

"  But  what  did  you  think  they  were 
for?  "I  asked. 

"  Why  -  -  just  to  —  to  keep,"  he  said 
hesitatingly. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  I,  wheeling 
a  couple  of  cannon  off  to  a  distance  of 
a  yard  from  the  passing  troops.  "  I'll 
show  you  something  else  you  can  do 
with  them." 

I  loaded  both  cannon  to  the  muzzle 
with  dried  pease,  and  showed  him  how 
to  shoot. 

"Now,"  said  I,  "fire!" 

He    snapped    the    spring,    and    the 


76  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

dried  pease  flew  out  like  death-dealing 
shells  in  war.  In  a  moment  the  plati- 
num commander  of  the  forces,  and 
about  thirty-seven  solid  silver  war- 
riors, lay  flat  on  their  backs.  It  needed 
only  a  little  red  ink  on  the  carpet  to 
reproduce  in  miniature  a  scene  of 
great  carnage,  but  I  shall  never  forget 
the  expression  of  mingled  joy  and 
regret  on  his  countenance  as  those 
creatures  went  down. 

"  Don't  you  like  it,  son?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  with  an 
anxious  glance  at  the  prostrate  war- 
riors. "  They  aren't  deaded,  are 
they?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  I,  restoring 
the  presumably  defunct  troopers  to 
life  by  setting  them  up  again.  "  The 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    77 

only  thing  that'll  dead  a  soldier  like 
these  is  to  step  on  him.  Try  the 
other  gun." 

Thus  reassured,  he  did  as  I  bade 
him,  and  again  the  proud  paraders 
went  down,  this  time  amid  shouts  of 
glee.  And  so  we  passed  an  all  too 
fleeting  two  hours,  that  little  boy  and 
I.  Through  the  whole  list  of  his 
famous  toys  we  went,  and  as  well  as  I 
could  I  taught  him  the  delicious  uses 
of  each  and  all  of  them,  until  finally 
he  seemed  to  grow  weary,  and  so,  draw- 
ing up  a  big  arm-chair  before  the  fire 
and  taking  his  tired  little  body  into  my 
lap,  with  his  tousled  head  cuddled  up 
close  over  the  spot  where  my  heart  is 
alleged  to  be,  I  started  to  read  a 
story  to  him  out  of  one  of  the  many 


78  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

beautiful  books  that  had  been  provided 
for  him  by  his  generous  parents.  But 
I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  saw  that 
his  attention  was  wandering. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  rather  have  me 
tell  you  a  story  instead  of  reading  it/' 
said  I. 

"  What's  to  tell  a  story?  "  he  asked, 
fixing  his  blue  eyes  gravely  upon  mine. 

"Great  Scott,  kiddie!"  said  I, 
"  didn't  anybody  ever  tell  you  a 
story?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  he  replied  sleepily;  "  I 
get  read  to  every  afternoon  by  my 
governess,  but  nobody  ever  told  me 
a  story." 

"  Well,  just  you  listen  to  this," 
said  I,  giving  him  a  hearty  squeeze. 
"  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little 


CHILD  WHO  HAD  EVERYTHING  BUT—    79 

boy,"  I  began,  "  and  he  lived  in  a 
beautiful  house  not  far  from  the  Park, 
and  his  daddy  - 

"  What's  a  daddy?  "  asked  the  child, 
looking  up  into  my  face. 

"  Why,  a  daddy  is  a  little  boy's 
father,"  I  explained.  "  You've  got 
a  daddy--" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  If  a  daddy 
is  a  father,  I've  got  one.  I  saw  him 
yesterday,"  he  added. 

"Oh,  did  you?"  said  I.  "And 
what  did  he  say  to  you?  ': 

"  He  said  he  was  glad  to  see  me 
and  hoped  I  was  a  good  boy,"  said 
the  child.  "  He  seemed  very  glad 
when  I  told  him  I  hoped  so,  too,  and 
he  gave  me  all  these  things  here  --he 
and  my  mother." 


8o  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  That  was  very  nice  of  them," 
said  I  huskily. 

"  And  they're  both  coming  up  some 
time  to-day  or  to-morrow  to  see  if 
I  like  them,"  said  the  lad. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  say?  " 
I  asked,  with  difficulty  getting  the 
words  out  over  a  most  unaccountable 
lump  that  had  arisen  in  my  throat. 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  them,"  he  began, 
as  his  eyes  closed  sleepily,  "  that  I 
like  them  all  very,  very  much." 

"  And  which  one  of  them  all  do 
you  like  the  best?  "  said  I. 

He  snuggled  up  closer  in  my  arms, 
and,  raising  his  little  head  a  trifle 
higher,  he  kissed  me  on  the  tip  end 
of  my  chin,  and  murmured  softly  as 
he  dropped  off  to  sleep, 

"You!" 


Ill 

"  Good  night,"  said  my  spectral  vis- 
itor as  she  left  me,  once  more  bending 
over  my  desk,  whither  I  had  been  re- 
transported  without  my  knowledge, 
for  I  must  have  fallen  asleep,  too,  with 
that  little  boy  in  my  arms.  "  You 
have  done  a  good  night's  work." 

"  Have  I?  "  said  I,  rubbing  my  eyes 
to  see  if  I  were  really  awake.  "  But 
tell  me  —  who  was  that  little  kiddie 
anyhow? ': 

"  He?  "  she  answered  with  a  smile. 
"Why,  he  is  the  Child  Who  Has 
Everything  But  —  " 


82  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

And  then  she  vanished  from  my 
sight. 

"  Everything  but  what?  "  I  cried, 
starting  up  and  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness into  which  she  had  disappeared. 

But  there  was  no  response,  and  I 
was  left  alone  to  guess  the  answer 
to  my  question. 


A  HOLIDAY  WISH 

WHEN  Santa  Claus  doth  visit  me 

With  richly  laden  pack  of  toys, 
And  tumbles  down  my  chim-i-ney 

To  scatter  'round  his  Christmas  joys, 
I  trust  that  he  will  bring  the  kind 

That  can  be  shared,  for  it  is  true 
Past  peradventure  to  my  mind 

That  joy  is  sweeter  shared  by  two. 

I  never  cared  for  solitaire. 

I  do  not  pine  for  lonely  things. 
I  love  the  pleasure  I  can  share 

Because  of  all  the  fun  it  brings. 
A  selfish  pleasure  loses  zest 

With  none  to  share  it  with  you  by, 
And  shrinks  the  longer  'tis  possest, 

While  joys  divided  multiply. 


SANTA   CLAUS  AND   LITTLE 
BILLEE 


SANTA  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE 
BILLEE 

I 

HE  was  only  a  little  bit  of  a  chap, 
and  so,  when  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  came  into  close 
contact   with   the   endless    current   of 
human  things,  it  was  as  hard  for  him 
to  "  stay  put  "  as  for  some  wayward 
little  atom  of  flotsam  and   jetsam  to 
keep  from  tossing   about  in  the  sur- 
ging tides  of  the  sea. 

His  mother  had  left  him  there  in  the 
big  toy-shop,  with  instructions  not  to 
move  until  she  came  back,  while  she 
went  off  to  do  some  mysterious  errand. 


88          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

She  thought,  no  doubt,  that  with  so 
many  beautiful  things  on  every  side 
to  delight  his  eye  and  hold  his  atten- 
tion, strict  obedience  to  her  commands 
would  not  be  hard.  But,  alas,  the 
good  lady  reckoned  not  upon  the  mag- 
netic power  of  attraction  of  all  those 
lovely  objects  in  detail.  She  saw  them 
only  as  a  mass  of  wonders  which,  in 
all  probability,  would  so  dazzle  his 
vision  as  to  leave  him  incapable  of 
movement;  but  Little  Billee  was  not 
so  indifferent  as  all  that. 

When  a  phonograph  at  the  other  end 
of  the  shop  began  to  rattle  off  melo- 
dious tunes  and  funny  jokes,  in  spite 
of  the  instructions  he  had  received, 
off  he  pattered  as  fast  as  his  little  legs 
would  carry  him  to  investigate.  After 


SANTA  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE       89 

that,  forgetful  of  everything  else,  find- 
ing himself  caught  in  the  constantly 
moving  stream  of  Christmas  shoppers, 
he  was  borne  along  in  the  resistless 
current  until  he  found  himself  at  last 
out  upon  the  street  —  alone,  free,  and 
independent. 

It  was  great  fun,  at  first.  By  and 
by,  however,  the  afternoon  waned;  the 
sun,  as  if  anxious  to  hurry  along  the 
dawn  of  Christmas  Day,  sank  early 
to  bed;  and  the  electric  lights  along 
the  darkening  highway  began  to  pop 
out  here  and  there,  like  so  many  merry 
stars  come  down  to  earth  to  celebrate 
the  gladdest  time  of  all  the  year. 
Little  Billee  began  to  grow  tired;  and 
then  he  thought  of  his  mama,  and  tried 
to  find  the  shop  where  he  had  promised 


go          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

to  remain  quiet  until  her  return.  Up 
and  down  the  street  he  wandered 
until  his  little  legs  grew  weary;  but 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  shop,  nor  of 
the  beloved  face  he  was  seeking. 

Once  again,  and  yet  once  again  after 
that,  did  the  little  fellow  traverse  that 
crowded  highway,  his  tears  getting 
harder  and  harder  to  keep  back,  and 
then  —  joy  of  joys  —  whom  should  he 
see  walking  slowly  along  the  sidewalk 
but  Santa  Claus  himself!  The  saint 
was  strangely  decorated  with  two  queer- 
looking  boards,  with  big  red  letters 
on  them,  hung  over  his  back  and  chest; 
but  there  was  still  that  same  kindly, 
gray-bearded  face,  the  red  cloak  with 
the  fur  trimmings,  and  the  same  dear 
old  cap  that  the  children's  friend  had 


He  thought  it  very  strange  that  Santa  Claus's  hand  should 
be  so  red  and  cold  and  rough.    Page  91. 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE        QI 

always  worn  in  the  pictures  of  him 
that  Little  Billee  had  seen. 

With  a  glad  cry  of  happiness,  Little 
Billee  ran  to  meet  the  old  fellow,  and 
put  his  hand  gently  into  that  of  the 
saint.  He  thought  it  very  strange  that 
Santa  Claus's  hand  should  be  so  red 
and  cold  and  rough,  and  so  chapped; 
but  he  was  not  in  any  mood  to  be  crit- 
ical. He  had  been  face  to  face  with 
a  very  disagreeable  situation.  Then, 
when  things  had  seemed  blackest  to 
him,  everything  had  come  right  again; 
and  he  was  too  glad  to  take  more  than 
passing  notice  of  anything  strange  and 
odd. 

Santa  Claus,  of  course,  would  recog- 
nize him  at  once,  and  would  know  just 
how  to  take  him  back  to  his  mama  at 


92  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

home  —  wherever  that  might  be. 
Little  Billee  had  never  thought  to 
inquire  just  where  home  was.  All 
he  knew  was  that  it  was  a  big  gray 
stone  house  on  a  long  street  somewhere, 
with  a  tall  iron  railing  in  front  of  it, 
not  far  from  the  park. 

"Howdidoo,  Mr.  Santa  Claus?" 
said  Little  Billee,  as  the  other's  hand 
unconsciously  tightened  over  his  own. 

"  Why,  howdidoo,  kiddie?"  replied 
the  old  fellow,  glancing  down  at  his 
new-found  friend,  with  surprise  gleam- 
ing from  his  deep-set  eyes.  "  Where 
did  you  drop  from?  " 

"Oh,  I'm  out,"  said  Little  Billee 
bravely.  "  My  mama  left  me  a  little 
while  ago  while  she  went  off  about 
something,  and  I  guess  I  got  losted." 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE       93 

"  Very  likely,"  returned  the  old 
saint  with  a  smile.  "  Little  two-by- 
four  fellows  are  apt  to  get  losted  when 
they  start  in  on  their  own  hook, 
specially  days  like  these,  with  such 
crowds  hustlin'  around." 

"  But  it's  all  right  now,"  suggested 
Little  Billee  hopefully.  "  I'm  found 
again,  ain't  I?  ': 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeedy,  you're  found  all 
right,  kiddie,"  Santa  Claus  agreed. 

"  And  pretty  soon  you'll  take  me 
home  again,  won't  you  ?  ':  said  the 
child. 

"  Surest  thing  you  know!  "  answered 
Santa  Claus,  looking  down  upon  the 
bright  but  tired  little  face  with  a  com- 
forting smile.  "  What  might  your  ad- 
dress be?  " 


94  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  My  what?  "  asked  Little  Billee. 

"  Your  address,"  repeated  Santa 
Claus.  "  Where  do  you  live?  " 

The  answer  was  a  ringing  peal  of 
childish  laughter. 

"As  if  you  didn't  know  that!" 
cried  Little  Billee,  giggling. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Santa  Claus. 
"  Can't  fool  you,  can  I?  It  would  be 
funny  if,  after  keeping  an  eye  on 
you  all  these  years  since  you  was  a 
babby,  I  didn't  know  where  you  lived, 
eh?" 

"  Awful  funny,"  agreed  Little  Billee. 
"  But  tell  me,  Mr.  Santa  Claus,  what 
sort  of  a  boy  do  you  think  I  have 
been?"  he  added  with  a  shade  of 
anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"  Pretty      good  —  pretty      good," 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE       95 

Santa  Claus  answered,  turning  in  his 
steps  and  walking  back  again  along 
the  path  he  had  just  traveled  —  which 
Little  Billee  thought  was  rather  a 
strange  thing  to  do.  "  You've  got 
more  white  marks  than  black  ones  - 
a  good  many  more  —  a  hundred  and 
fifty  times  as  many,  kiddie.  Fact  is, 
you're  all  right  -  -  'way  up  among  the 
good  boys;  though  once  or  twice  last 
summer,  you  know  - 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Little  Billee 
meekly,  "  but  I  didn't  mean  to  be 
naughty." 

"  That's  just  what  I  said  to  the  book- 
keeper," said  Santa  Claus,  "  and  so 
we  gave  you  a  gray  mark  —  half  white 
and  half  black  —  that  doesn't  count 
either  way,  for  or  against  you." 


96  A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Little  Billee, 
much  comforted. 

"  Don't  mention  it;  you  are  very 
welcome,  kiddie,"  said  Santa  Claus, 
giving  the  youngster's  hand  a  gentle 
squeeze. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  '  kiddie ' 
when  you  know  my  name  is  Little 
Billee?"  asked  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  that's  what  I  call  all  good 
boys,"  explained  Santa  Claus.  "  You 
see,  we  divide  them  up  into  two  kinds 
—  the  good  boys  and  the  naughty 
boys  —  and  the  good  boys  we  call 
kiddies,  and  the  naughty  boys  we 
call  caddies,  and  there  you  are." 

Just  then  Little  Billee  noticed  for 
the  first  time  the  square  boards  that 
Santa  Claus  was  wearing. 


SANTA  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE       97 

"  What  are  you  wearing  those  boards 
for,  Mr.  Santa  Claus?  "  he  asked. 

If  the  lad  had  looked  closely  enough, 
he  would  have  seen  a  very  unhappy 
look  come  into  the  old  man's  face;  but 
there  was  nothing  of  it  in  his  answer. 

"  Oh,  those  are  my  new-fangled 
back-and-chest  protectors,  my  lad," 
he  replied.  "  Sometimes  we  have  bit- 
ter winds  blowing  at  Christmas,  and 
I  have  to  be  ready  for  them.  It 
wouldn't  do  for  Santa  Claus  to  come 
down  with  the  sneezes  at  Christmas- 
time, you  know --no,  sirree!  This 
board  in  front  keeps  the  wind  off  my 
chest,  and  the  one  behind  keeps  me 
from  getting  rheumatism  in  my  back. 
They  are  a  great  protection  against 
the  weather." 


98          A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  I'll  have  to  tell  my  papa  about 
them,"  said  Little  Billee,  much  im- 
pressed by  the  simplicity  of  this  ar- 
rangement. "  We  have  a  glass  board 
on  the  front  of  our  orty mobile  to  keep 
the  wind  off  Henry  —  he's  our  shuffer 
—  but  papa  wears  a  fur  coat,  and  some- 
times he  says  the  wind  goes  right 
through  that.  He'll  be  glad  to  know 
about  these  boards." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  smiled  Santa 
Claus.  "  They  aren't  very  becoming, 
but  they  are  mighty  useful.  You 
might  save  up  your  pennies  and  give 
your  papa  a  pair  like  'em  for  his  next 
Christmas." 

Santa  Claus  laughed  as  he  spoke;  but 
there  was  a  catch  in  his  voice  which 
Little  Billee  was  too  young  to  notice. 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE       99 

"  You've  got  letters  printed  there," 
said  the  boy,  peering  around  in  front  of 
his  companion  at  the  lettering  on  the 
board.  "  What  do  they  spell?  You 
know  I  haven't  learned  to  read 
yet." 

"  And  why  should  you  know  how  to 
read  at  your  age?  "  said  Santa  Claus. 
"  You're  not  more  than  - 

"  Five  last  month,"  said  Little  Billee 
proudly.  It  was  such  a  great  age! 

"  My,  as  old  as  that?  "  cried  Santa 
Claus.  "  Well,  you  are  growing  fast! 
Why,  it  don't  seem  more  than  yester- 
day that  you  was  a  pink-cheeked 
babby,  and  here  you  are  big  enough 
to  be  out  alone!  That's  more  than  my 
little  boy  is  able  to  do." 

Santa   Claus   shivered   slightly,    and 


100        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

Little  Billee  was  surprised  to  see  a  tear 
glistening  in  his  eye. 

"  Why,  have  you  got  a  little  boy?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Little  Billee,"  said  the  saint. 
"  A  poor  white-faced  little  chap,  about 
a  year  older  than  you,  who  —  well, 
never  mind,  kiddie  —  he's  a  kiddie, 
too  —  let's  talk  about  something  else, 
or  I'll  have  icicles  in  my  eyes." 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  what  those 
letters  on  the  boards  spell,"  said  Little 
Billee. 

"  '  Merry  Christmas  to  Every- 
body! '  '  said  Santa  Claus.  "  I  have 
the  words  printed  there  so  that  every- 
body can  see  them;  and  if  I  miss  wish- 
ing anybody  a  merry  Christmas,  he'll 
know  I  meant  it  just  the  same." 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     101 

"You're  awful  kind,  aren't  you?" 
said  Little  Billee,  squeezing  his  friend's 
hand  affectionately.  "  It  must  make 
you  very  happy  to  be  able  to  be  so 
kind  to  everybody!  " 


II 

Santa  Claus  made  no  reply  to  this 
remark,  beyond  giving  a  very  deep 
sigh,  which  Little  Billee  chose  to  be- 
lieve was  evidence  of  a  great  inward 
content.  They  walked  on  now  in 
silence,  for  Little  Billee  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  almost  too  tired  to  talk, 
and  Santa  Claus  seemed  to  be  thinking 
of  something  else.  Finally,  however, 
the  little  fellow  spoke. 

"  I  guess  I'd  like  to  go  home  now, 
Mr.  Santa  Claus,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
tired,  and  I'm  afraid  my  mama  will 
be  wondering  where  I've  gone  to." 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     103 

"  That's  so,  my  little  man,"  said 
Santa  Claus,  stopping  short  in  his 
walk  up  and  down  the  block.  "  Your 
mother  will  be  worried,  for  a  fact;  and 
your  father,  too  —  I  know  how  I'd 
feel  if  my  little  boy  got  losted  and 
hadn't  come  home  at  dinner-time.  I 
don't  believe  you  know  where  you  live, 
though -- now,  honest!  Come!  'Fess 
up,  Billee,  you  don't  know  where  you 
live,  do  you?  ': 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do,"  said  Little  Billee. 
"  It's  in  the  big  gray  stone  house  with 
the  iron  fence  in  front  of  it,  near  the 
park." 

"  Oh,  that's  easy  enough!  "  laughed 
Santa  Claus  nervously.  "  Anybody 
could  say  he  lived  in  a  gray  stone  house 
with  a  fence  around  it,  near  the  park; 


104        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

but  you  don't  know  what  street  it's 
on,  nor  the  number,  either.  I'll  bet 
fourteen  wooden  giraffes  against  a 
monkey-on-a-stick !  " 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Little  Billee 
frankly;  "  but  I  know  the  number  of 
our  ortymobile.  It's  '  N.  Y.'  " 

"  Fine!  "  laughed  Santa  Claus.  "  If 
you  really  were  lost,  it  would  be  a  great 
help  to  know  that;  but  not  being  lost, 
as  you  ain't,  why,  of  course,  we  can  get 
along  without  it.  It's  queer  you  don't 
know  your  last  name,  though." 

"  I  do,  too,  know  my  last  name!  " 
blurted  Little  Billee.  "It's  Billee. 
That's  the  last  one  they  gave  me,  any- 
how." 

Santa  Claus  reflected  for  a  moment, 
eying  the  child  anxiously. 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE      105 

"  I  don't  believe  you  even  know  your 
papa's  name,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Little  Billee  in- 
dignantly. "  His  name  is  Mr.  Harri- 


son." 


"  Well,  you  are  a  smart  little  chap," 
cried  Santa  Claus  gleefully.  "  You 
got  it  right  the  very  first  time,  didn't 
you?  I  really  didn't  think  you  knew. 
But  I  don't  believe  you  know  where 
your  papa  keeps  his  bake-shop,  where 
he  makes  all  those  nice  cakes  and 
cookies  you  eat." 

Billee  began  to  laugh  again. 

"  You  can't  fool  me,  Mr.  Santa 
Claus,"  he  said.  :c  I  know  my  papa 
don't  keep  a  bake-shop  just  as  well  as 
you  do.  My  papa  owns  a  bank." 

"  Splendid!    Made  of  tin,  I  suppose, 


io6        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

with  a  nice  little  hole  at  the  top  to 
drop  pennies  into?  "  said  Santa  Claus. 

"  No,  it  ain't,  either!  "  retorted  Lit- 
tle Billee.  "  It's  made  of  stone,  and 
has  more  than  a  million  windows  in  it. 
I  went  down  there  with  my  mama  to 
papa's  office  the  other  day,  so  I  guess 
I  ought  to  know." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so,"  said  Santa 
Claus.  "  Nobody  better.  By  the  way, 
Billee,  what  does  your  mama  call  your 
papa?  '  Billee,'  like  you?  "  he  added. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  returned  Little 
Billee.  "  She  calls  him  papa,  except 
once  in  a  while  when  he's  going  away, 
and  then  she  says,  '  Good-by,  Tom.'  " 

"  Fine  again!  "  said  Santa  Claus, 
blowing  upon  his  fingers,  for,  now  that 
the  sun  had  completely  disappeared 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     107 

over  in  the  west,  it  was  getting  very 
cold.  "  Thomas  Harrison,  banker," 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "  What  with 
the  telephone-book  and  the  city  di- 
rectory, I  guess  we  can  find  our  way 
home  with  Little  Billee." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  go  now,  Mr. 
Santa  Claus?  "  asked  Little  Billee, 
for  the  cold  was  beginning  to  cut 
through  his  little  coat,  and  the  sand- 
man had  started  to  scatter  the  sleepy- 
seeds  all  around. 

"  Yes,  sirree!  "  returned  Santa  Claus 
promptly.  "  Right  away  off  now  in- 
stantly at  once!  I'm  afraid  I  can't 
get  my  reindeer  here  in  time  to  take 
us  up  to  the  house,  but  we  can  go  in 
the  cars  —  hum !  I  don't  know  whether 
we  can  or  not,  come  to  think  of  it.  Ah, 


io8        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

do  you  happen  to  have  ten  cents  in 
your  pocket?  "  Santa  added  with  an 
embarrassed  air.  "  You  see,  I've  left 
my  pocketbook  in  the  sleigh  with  my 
toy-pack;  and,  besides,  mine  is  only 
toy-money,  and  they  won't  take  that 
on  the  cars." 

"  I  got  twenty-fi'  cents,"  said  Little 
Billee  proudly,  as  he  dug  his  way  down 
into  his  pocket  and  brought  the  shi- 
ning silver  piece  to  light.  "  You  can 
have  it,  if  you  want  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Santa  Claus, 
taking  the  proffered  coin.  "  We'll  start 
home  right  away;  only  come  in  here 
first,  while  I  telephone  to  Santaville, 
telling  the  folks  where  I  am." 

He  led  the  little  fellow  into  a  public 
telephone  station,  where  he  eagerly 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     109 

scanned  the  names  in  the  book.  At 
last  it  was  found  -  -  "  Thomas  Harri- 
son, seven-six-five-four  Plaza."  And 
then,  in  the  seclusion  of  the  telephone- 
booth,  Santa  Claus  sent  the  gladdest 
of  all  Christmas  messages  over  the  wire 
to  two  distracted  parents: 

"  /  have  found  your  boy  wandering  in 
the  street.  He  is  safe,  and  I  will  bring 
him  home  right  away" 


Ill 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  there  might 
have  been  seen  the  strange  spectacle  of 
a  foot-sore  Santa  Claus  leading  a 
sleepy  little  boy  up  Fifth  Avenue  to  a 
cross-street,  which  shall  be  nameless. 
The  boy  vainly  endeavored  to  per- 
suade his  companion  to  "  come  in  and 
meet  mama." 

"  No,  Billee,"  the  old  man  replied 
sadly,  "  I  must  hurry  back.  You  see, 
kiddie,  this  is  my  busy  day.  Besides, 
I  never  go  into  a  house  except  through 
the  chimney.  I  wouldn't  know  how  to 
behave,  going  in  at  a  front  door." 

But  it  was  not  to  be  as  Santa  Claus 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     in 

willed,  for  Little  Billee's  papa,  and  his 
mama,  and  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
the  butler  and  the  housemaids,  and  two 
or  three  policemen,  were  waiting  at  the 
front  door  when  they  arrived. 

"Aha!"  said  one  of  the  police, 
seizing  Santa  Claus  roughly  by  the 
arm.  "  We've  landed  you,  all  right! 
Where  have  you  been  with  this  boy?  ' 

"  You  let  him  alone!"  cried  Little 
Billee,  with  more  courage  than  he  had 
ever  expected  to  show  in  the  presence 
of  a  policeman.  "  He's  a  friend  of 


mine." 


"That's  right,  officer,"  said  Little 
Billee's  father;  "  let  him  alone  -  -  I 
haven't  entered  any  complaint  against 
this  man." 

"  But  you  want  to  look  out  for  these 


112         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

fellers,  Mr.  Harrison,"  returned  the  offi- 
cer. "  First  thing  you  know  they'll  be 
makin'  a  trade  of  this  sort  of  thing." 

"  I'm  no  grafter! "  retorted  Santa 
Claus  indignantly.  "  I  found  the  little 
chap  wandering  along  the  street,  and, 
as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  locate  where  he 
lived,  I  brought  him  home.  That's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

"  He  knew  where  I  lived  all  along," 
laughed  Little  Billee,  "  only  he  pre- 
tended he  didn't,  just  to  see  if  I  knew." 

"  You  see,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  "  it 
won't  do  him  any  harm  to  let  him  cool 
his  heels  - 

"  It  is  far  better  that  he  should  warm 
them,  officer,"  said  Mr.  Harrison 
kindly.  "  And  he  can  do  that  here. 
Come  in,  my  man,"  he  added,  turning 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     113 

to  Santa  Claus  with  a  grateful  smile. 
"  Just  for  a  minute  anyhow.  Mrs. 
Harrison  will  wish  to  thank  you  for 
bringing  our  boy  back  to  us.  We  have 
had  a  terrible  afternoon." 

"  That's  all  right,  sir,"  said  Santa 
Claus  modestly.  "  It  wasn't  anything, 
sir.  I  didn't  really  find  him  —  it  was 
him  as  found  me,  sir.  He  took  me  for 
the  real  thing,  I  guess." 

Nevertheless,  Santa  Claus,  led  by 
Little  Billee's  persistent  father,  went 
into  the  house.  Now  that  the  boy 
could  see  him  in  the  full  glare  of  many 
electric  lights,  his  furs  did  not  seem  the 
most  gorgeous  things  in  the  world. 
When  the  flapping  front  of  his  red 
jacket  flew  open,  the  child  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  ragged  was  the  thin 


H4         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

gray  coat  it  covered;  and  as  for  the 
good  old  saint's  comfortable  stomach 
—  strange  to  say,  it  was  not! 

"I  —  I  wish  you  all  a  merry  Christ- 
mas," faltered  Santa  Claus;  "but  I 
really  must  be  going,  sir  —  ' 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Mr.  Harrison. 
"  Not  until  you  have  got  rid  of  this 
chill,  and  —  " 

"1  can't  stay,  sir,"  said  Santa.  "  I'll 
lose  my  job  if  I  do." 

"Well,  what  if  you  do?  I'll  give 
you  a  better  one,"  said  the  banker. 

"I  can't  — I  can't!"  faltered  the 
man.  "I  —  I  —  I've  got  a  Little 
Billee  of  my  own  at  home  waitin'  for 
me,  sir.  If  I  hadn't,"  he  added 
fiercely,  "  do  you  suppose  I'd  be  doin' 
this? "  He  pointed  at  the  painted 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     115 

boards,  and  shuddered.  "  It's  him 
as  has  kept  me  from  —  from  the 
river!  "  he  muttered  hoarsely;  and  then 
this  dispenser  of  happiness  to  so  many 
millions  of  people  all  the  world  over 
sank  into  a  chair,  and,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands,  wept  like  a  child. 

"  I  guess  Santa  Claus  is  tired,  papa," 
said  Little  Billee,  snuggling  up  closely 
to  the  old  fellow  and  taking  hold  of  his 
hand  sympathetically.  "  He's  been 
walkin'  a  lot  to-day." 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Harrison 
gravely.  "  These  are  very  busy  times 
for  Santa  Claus,  and  I  guess  that,  as 
he  still  has  a  hard  night  ahead  of  him, 
James  had  better  ring  up  Henry  and 
tell  him  to  bring  the  car  around  right 
away,  so  that  we  may  take  him  back  - 


116         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

to  his  little  boy.  We'll  have  to  lend 
him  a  fur  coat  to  keep  the  wind  off,  too, 
for  it  is  a  bitter  night." 

"  Oh,"  said  Little  Billee,  "  I  haven't 
told  you  about  these  boards  he  wears. 
He  has  'em  to  keep  the  wind  off,  and 
they're  fine,  papa!"  Little  Billee 
pointed  to  the  two  sign-boards  which 
Santa  Claus  had  leaned  against  the 
wall.  "  He  says  he  uses  'em  on  cold 
nights,"  the  lad  went  on.  "  They  have 
writing  on  'em,  too.  Do  you  know 
what  it  says  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  glancing 
at  the  boards.  "  It  says  £  If  You 
Want  a  Good  Christmas  Dinner  for  a 
Quarter,  Go  to  Smithers's  Cafe.'  ' 

Little  Billee  roared  with  laughter. 

"  Papa's  trying  to  fool  me,  just  as 


SANTA  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     117 

you  did  when  you  pretended  not  to 
know  where  I  lived,  Santa  Claus,"  he 
said,  looking  up  into  the  old  fellow's 
face,  his  own  countenance  brimming 
over  with  mirth.  "  You  mustn't  think 
he  can't  read,  though,"  the  lad  added 
hastily.  "  He's  only  joking." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,  I  shouldn't  have 
thought  that,"  replied  Santa  Claus, 
smiling  through  his  tears. 

"I've  been  joking,  have  I?"  said 
Little  Billee's  papa.  "  Well,  then,  Mr. 
Billiam,  suppose  you  inform  me  what 
it  says  on  those  boards." 

"  '  Merry  Christmas  to  Every- 
body,' ''  said  Little  Billee  proudly. 
"  I  couldn't  read  it  myself,  but  he  told 
me  what  it  said.  He  has  it  printed 
there  so  that  if  he  misses  saying  it  to 


H8        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

anybody,    they'll    know    he    means    it 
just  the  same." 

"  By  Jove,  Mr.  Santa  Claus,"  cried 
Little  Billee's  papa,  grasping  the  old 
man  warmly  by  the  hand,  "  I  owe  you 
ten  million  apologies!  I  haven't  be- 
lieved in  you  for  many  a  long  year; 
but  now,  sir,  I  take  it  all  back.  You 
do  exist,  and,  by  the  great  horn  spoon, 
you  are  the  real  thing!  " 


IV 

Little  Billee  had  the  satisfaction  of 
acting  as  host  to  Santa  Claus  at  a  good, 
luscious  dinner,  which  Santa  Claus 
must  have  enjoyed  very  much,  because, 
when  explaining  why  he  was  so  hungry, 
it  came  out  that  the  poor  old  chap  had 
been  so  busy  all  day  that  he  had  not 
had  time  to  get  any  lunch  —  no,  not 
even  one  of  those  good  dinners  at 
Smithers's  cafe,  to  which  Little  Billee's 
father  had  jokingly  referred.  And 
after  dinner  Henry  came  with  the 
automobile,  and,  bidding  everybody 
good  night,  Santa  Claus  and  Little 
Billee's  papa  went  out  of  the  house 
together. 


120        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

Christmas  morning  dawned,  and  Lit- 
tle Billee  awoke  from  wonderful  dreams 
of  rich  gifts,  and  of  extraordinary  ad- 
ventures with  his  new-found  friend,  to 
find  the  reality  quite  as  splendid  as  the 
dream  things.  Later,  what  was  his  de- 
light when  a  small  boy,  not  much  older 
than  himself  —  a  pale,  thin,  but  playful 
little  fellow  —  arrived  at  the  house  to 
spend  the  day  with  him,  bringing 
with  him  a  letter  from  Santa  Claus 
himself!  This  was  what  the  letter 
said: 

DEAR  LITTLE  BILLEE: --You  must 
not  tell  anybody  except  your  papa  and 
your  mama,  but  the  little  boy  who 
brings  you  this  letter  is  my  little  boy, 
and  I  am  going  to  let  you  have  him  for 
a  playfellow  for  Christmas  Day.  Treat 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     121 

him  kindly  for  his  papa's  sake,  and  if 
you  think  his  papa  is  worth  loving  tell 
him  so.  Do  not  forget  me,  Little 
Billee.  I  shall  see  you  often  in  the 
future,  but  I  doubt  if  you  will  see  me. 
I  am  not  going  to  return  to  Twenty- 
Third  Street  again,  but  shall  continue 
my  work  in  the  Land  of  Yule,  in  the 
Palace  of  Good-Will,  whose  beauti- 
ful windows  look  out  upon  the  homes 
of  all  good  children. 

Good-by,  Little  Billee,  and  the  hap- 
piest of  happy  Christmases  to  you  and 
all  of  yours. 

Affectionately, 
SANTA  CLAUS. 


When  Little  Billee's  mama  read  this 
to  him  that  Christmas  morning,  a  stray 
little  tear  ran  down  her  cheek  and  fell 
upon  Little  Billee's  hand. 


122         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  Why,  what  are  you  crying  for, 
mama?  "  he  asked. 

"  With  happiness,  my  dear  little 
son,"  his  mother  answered.  "  I  was 
afraid  yesterday  that  I  might  have  lost 
my  little  boy  forever,  but  now  - 

"  You  have  an  extra  one  thrown  in 
for  Christmas,  haven't  you  ?  ''  said 
Little  Billee,  taking  his  new  playmate 
by  the  hand.  The  visitor  smiled  back 
at  him  with  a  smile  so  sweet  that  any- 
body might  have  guessed  that  he  was 
the  son  of  Santa  Claus. 

As  for  the  latter,  Little  Billee  has  not 
seen  him  again;  but  down  at  his 
father's  bank  there  is  a  new  messenger, 
named  John,  who  has  a  voice  so  like 
Santa  Claus's  voice  that  whenever 
Little  Billee  goes  down  there  in  the 


SANTA  GLAUS  AND  LITTLE  BILLEE     123 

motor  to  ride  home  at  night  with  his 
papa,  he  runs  into  the  bank  and  has 
a  long  talk  with  him,  just  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  pretending  that  it  is  Santa  Claus 
he  is  talking  to.  Indeed,  the  voice  is 
so  like  that  once  a  sudden  and  strange 
idea  flashed  across  Little  Billee's  mind. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  on  Twenty- 
Third  Street,  John?  "  he  asked. 

"  Twenty-Third  Street?  "  replied  the 
messenger,  scratching  his  head  as  if 
very  much  puzzled.  "  What's  that?  " 

"  Why,  it's  a  street,"  said  Little 
Billee  rather  vaguely. 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Billee," 
said  John,  "  I've  heard  tell  of  Twenty- 
Third  Street,  and  they  say  it  is  a  very 
beautiful  and  interesting  spot.  But, 
you  know,  I  don't  get  much  chance  to 


124         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

travel.  I've  been  too  busy  all  my  life 
to  go  abroad." 

"Abroad!"  roared  Little  Billee, 
grinning  at  John's  utterly  absurd  mis- 
take. "Why,  Twenty-Third  Street 
ain't  abroad!  It's  up-town  —  near- — 
oh,  near  —  Twenty-Second  Street." 

"  Really?  "  returned  John,  evidently 
tremendously  surprised.  "  Well,  well, 
well!  Who'd  have  thought  that? 
Well,  if  that's  the  case,  some  time  when 
I  get  a  week  off  I'll  have  to  go  and  spend 
my  vacation  there!  " 

From  which  Little  Billee  concluded 
that  his  suspicion  that  John  might  be 
Santa  Claus  in  disguise  was  entirely 
without  foundation  in  fact. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE 

SLYLY  twinkling  in  the  skies, 

Peeping  from  the  Heaven's  blue, 
Are  a  million  starry  eyes 

Smiling,  Sweetheart,  down  on  you; 
Peeping  through  the  misty  gauze 
From  their  little  homes  above 
While  we  wait  for  Santa  Claus 
With  his  gifts  of  Cheer  and  Love. 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  O! 

Santa  Claus  is  on  the  way, 
And  his  sledges  overflow 
With  the  sweets  of  Christmas  Day. 
LuU-a-by! 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  0. 

Santa  Claus  is  coming  by 

With  his  pack  of  pretty  toys. 
Fast  his  speedy  rein-deer  fly 

With  their  load  of  Christmas  joys. 
Now  they  flit  across  the  moon, 

Now  they  flicker  o'er  the  gold  — 


CHRISTMAS  EVE 

We  shall  hear  their  patter  soon 
On  the  roof-tops  crisp  and  cold. 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  O! 

Soon  will  sound  the  merry  horn 
That  will  usher  in  the  glow 
Of  the  golden  Christmas  morn. 
LuU-a-by! 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  O. 

Meet  him  half-way,  Baby  dear  — 
Join  the  jolly  pranksome  band 
Of  the  Elf-men  with  their  cheer 
Waiting  there  in  Slumberland. 
Santa  Claus  must  come  along 

Through  the  dreamy  vales  of  Sleep. 
There  with  all  the  Fairy  throng 
Let  us  too  our  vigil  keep. 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  O. 

Haste  to  Slumberland  away, 
Where  the  Fairy  children  go 
On  the  Eve  of  Christmas  Day. 
Lull-a-by! 
Hush-a-by,  my  Baby  O. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE   SEVEN 
SANTAS 


THE    HOUSE    OF     THE     SEVEN 
SANTAS 

FOR  once  the  weather  bureau 
had  scored  a  good,  clean  hit. 
The  bull's-eye  was  pierced 
squarely  in  the  middle,  and  the  prom- 
ised blizzard  falling  upon  the  city  at 
noon  held  the  metropolis  completely 
in  its  grip.  Everything  in  the  line  of 
public  transportation  in  and  out  of  the 
town  was  tied  up  so  tightly  that  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  it  would  ever 
be  unraveled  again.  The  snow  was 
piling  waist  high  upon  the  streets,  and 
the  cutting  winds  played  their  fantastic 


130        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

pranks  with  a  chill  and  cruel  persist- 
ence. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
Dobbleigh  made  his  way  into  the  Grand 
Central  Railway  Station.  Like  other 
suburban  commuters  at  Christmas 
time,  he  was  heavily  laden  with  bundles 
of  one  kind  and  another.  He  fairly 
oozed  packages.  They  stuck  out  of 
the  pockets  of  his  heavy  ulster.  A 
half  dozen  fastened  together  with  a 
heavy  cord  he  carried  in  his  right  hand, 
and  some  were  slung  about  his  shoul- 
ders, and  held  there  by  means  of  a 
leathern  strap.  The  real  truth  was 
that  Dobbleigh  had  been  either  too 
busy,  or  had  forgotten  the  wise  reso- 
lutions of  the  autumn,  and  had  failed 
to  do  his  Christmas  shopping  early, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     131 

with  the  result  that  now,  on  Christ- 
mas Eve,  he  was  returning  to  the  little 
Dobbleighs  with  a  veritable  Santa 
Claus'  pack,  whose  contents  were  de- 
signed to  delight  their  eyes  in  the  early 
hours  of  the  coming  morning. 

It  was  with  a  great  sense  of  relief 
that  he  entered  the  vast  waiting  room 
of  the  station,  and  shook  the  accumu- 
lated snow  from  his  coat,  and  removed 
the  infant  icicles  from  his  eyes,  but 
his  joy  was  short-lived.  Making  his 
way  to  the  door,  he  paused  to  wish  the 
venerable  doorman  a  Merry  Christmas. 

'  Fierce  night,  Hawkins,"  he  said, 
as  he  readjusted  his  packages.  "  I 
shall  be  glad  enough  to  get  home." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  dubi- 
ously. 


132        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  Pm  afraid  you  won't  enjoy  that 
luxury  to-night,  Mr.  Dobbleigh,"  he 
said.  "  We  haven't  been  able  to  get  a 
train  out  of  here  since  one  o'clock,  and 
the  way  things  look  now  there  won't 
be  any  business  at  this  stand  for 
twenty-four  hours,  even  if  we  have 
luck." 

"What's  that?"  returned  Dobb- 
leigh. "  You  don't  mean  to  say  —  " 

"  No  trains  out  to-night,  sir,"  said 
the  doorman.  "  The  line's  out  of  com- 
mission from  here  to  Buffalo,  anyhow, 
and  nobody  knows  what's  going  on 
west  of  there.  The  wires  are  down, 
and  we're  completely  shut  off  from 
the  world." 

Dobbleigh  gave  a  long,  low  whis- 
tle. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     133 

"  By  Jove,  Hawkins,"  he  muttered 
ruefully.  "  That's  tough." 

"  Kind  o'  hard  on  the  kiddies,  eh?  " 
said  the  old  doorman  sympathetically. 

"  Mighty  hard,"  said  Dobbleigh, 
with  a  catch  in  his  voice.  "  No  chance 
of  anything  —  not  even  a  freight?  "  he 
went  on  anxiously. 

"  Couldn't  pull  a  feather  through 
with  thirty  locomotives,"  was  the  dis- 
heartening response.  "  I  guess  it's  the 
hotel  for  yours  to-night,  sir." 

Dobbleigh  turned  away,  and  pon- 
dered deeply  for  a  few  moments.  Ta- 
king care  of  himself  for  the  night  was 
not,  under  the  circumstances,  a  very 
difficult  proposition,  for  his  club  was 
not  far  away,  so  that  he  was  not  con- 
fronted with  the  uncomfortable  pros- 


134        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

pect  of  sleeping  on  the  benches  of  the 
railway  station,  but  the  idea  of  the 
little  Dobbleighs  not  finding  their  treas- 
ures awaiting  them  on  the  morrow,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  anxiety  of  Mrs. 
Dobbleigh  over  his  non-arrival,  was,  to 
say  the  least,  disconcerting. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said  philosophically, 
after  going  over  the  pros  and  cons  of 
the  situation  carefully,  "  what's  the  use 
of  worrying?  What  must  be  must  be, 
and  I'll  have  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

He  buttoned  his  heavy  coat  up 
snugly  about  his  neck,  and,  seizing 
his  bundles  with  a  firmer  grip,  wished 
the  old  doorman  a  good  night,  and 
went  out  again  into  the  storm.  Fifteen 
minutes  later,  looking  more  like  a 
snowman  than  an  ordinary  human 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     135 

being,  he  entered  the  club,  and,  if  it 
be  true  that  misery  finds  comfort  in 
company,  he  was  not  doomed  to  go 
without  consolation.  There  were  five 
other  fellow-sufferers  there  trying  to 
make  the  best  of  it. 

"Hello,  Dobby,"  cried  his  friend 
and  neighbor,  Grantham.  "  What's 
happened  to  you  —  an  eighteen-karat 
family  man  spending  his  Christmas 
Eve  at  a  club?  Shame  on  you!  " 

"  I  am  duly  repentant,  Gran,"  re- 
plied Dobbleigh,  "  but  you  see,  as  your 
neighbor,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  keep  an 
eye  on  you  this  night.  There  are  hob- 
goblins in  the  air.  Why  are  you  not 
at  home  in  the  bosom  of  your  family 
yourself?" 

"  The    walking    is    too    bad,"    said 


136         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

Grantham.  "  And,  besides,  that  con- 
founded valet  of  mine  forgot  to  put 
my  snowshoes  in  my  suit-case." 

"They  say  the  river  is  frozen  solid 
all  the  way  up,"  put  in  Billie  Ricketts, 
who  is  a  good  deal  of  a  wag,  as  all  old 
bachelors  are  apt  to  be.  "  Why  don't 
you  fellows  skate  home? ': 

"  I  tried  it,"  smiled  Grantham,  "  but 
the  wind  is  blowing  down  the  river,  and 
I  live  up.  I  hadn't  been  going  more 
than  two  hours  when  I  landed  on  Sta- 
ten  Island." 

In  this  way  the  exiles  strove  to  com- 
fort each  other,  and  on  the  surface 
succeeded,  but  inwardly  a  very  miser- 
able lot  they  were.  Clubs  have  their 
attractions,  but  we  have  not  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  developing  an  institution  of 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS      137 

that  kind  which  is  a  fair  substitute  for 
the  home  fireside  on  a  Christmas  Eve. 
Even  the  most  confirmed  old  bachelor 
will  confess  to  you  that,  way  down 
deep  in  his  heart,  the  comforts  of  such 
organizations  seem  cheerless  and  cold 
in  contrast  to  the  visions  of  smiling 
hearthstones  and  merry  gatherings  of 
happy  children,  that  come  to  them  in 
their  dreams. 

"  You've  got  some  bundle  there, 
Dobby,"  said  Grantham,  as  Dobbleigh 
relieved  himself  of  his  burden  of  pack- 
ages. "  What  are  you  going  to  do, 
open  a  department  store?  " 

"  Huh!  "  ejaculated  Ricketts. 
"  You're  a  fine  fellow  to  talk.  Ought 
to  have  seen  Gran  when  he  staggered 
in  here  an  hour  ago,  Dobby.  I  thought 


138         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

at  first  he  was  a  branch  office  of  the 
American  Express  Company  —  honest 
I  did.  Talk  about  your  bundle  trust 
—  Gran  had  the  market  cornered." 

"  Well,  why  shouldn't  I  have?  "  de- 
manded Grantham.  "  Haven't  I  got 
five  of  the  finest  kids  that  ever  climbed 
a  Christmas  tree?  " 

"  Nope,"  said  Dobbleigh,  with  an 
air  of  conviction.  "  Your  five  are 
dandies,  Gran,  but  you  ought  to  see  my 


six.' 


"  I've  seen  'em,"  said  Grantham, 
"  and  I'll  give  every  blessed  one  of  'em 
honorable  mention  as  high-steppers 
and  thoroughbreds,  but  when  it  comes 
to  the  real  thing  —  well,  my  five  are 
blue-ribbon  kids  all  right,  all  right." 

"  How  you  fathers   do  brag  about 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     139 

little  things!  "  snorted  Ricketts.  "  You 
two  braggarts  can  roll  your  eleven 
into  one,  and  the  aggregate  wouldn't 
be  a  marker  to  what  my  children  would 
be  if  I  had  any.  I've  half  a  mind  to 
give  up  my  state  of  single  blessedness, 
just  to  show  you  vainglorious  chaps 
what  —  " 

Just  what  Ricketts  was  going  to 
show  the  assembled  gathering  the 
world  will  never  be  able  to  do  more  than 
guess,  for  he  was  not  permitted  to 
finish  the  sentence.  It  was  at  this  pre- 
cise point  that  Doctor  Mallerby,  shed- 
ding snow  from  his  broad,  burly  figure 
at  every  step,  staggered  into  the  room, 
and,  with  a  scant  greeting  to  his  friends, 
hastened  to  the  blazing  log  fire  on  the 
club  hearth,  and  kneeling  before  it, 


140         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

began  unwrapping  a  bundle  of  some 
size  that  he,  too,  carried  in  his  arms. 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  got  there, 
doctor?"  cried  Ricketts,  craning  his 
neck  over  the  newcomer's  shoulder. 
"  One  of  these  new  character  dolls?" 

"No,  Billie,  no,"  said  Mallerby, 
fumbling  away  at  the  bundle.  "  I 
wish  to  Heaven  it  were.  Can't  you 
see,  old  man  —  it's  the  real  thing!" 

"The  real  what?"  said  Ricketts, 
bending  lower. 

"  The  real  thing,"  returned  Mal- 
lerby, in  a  low  voice.  "  A  poor  little 
tot  of  a  newsboy  —  ' 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  pick  him 
up?  "  gasped  Ricketts,  as  the  others 
gathered  around. 

"  Out    of    the    storm,"    said    Mai- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     141 

lerby.  "  I  found  him  huddled  up  in  the 
vestibule  of  Colonel  Mortimer's  when 
I  came  out  of  the  house  ten  minutes 
ago.  The  poor  little  devil  was  curled 
up  almost  into  a  knot,  trying  to  keep 
warm,  and  lay  there  fast  asleep,  with 
his  papers  under  his  arm.  I  honestly 
believe  that  if  I  hadn't  come  out  when 
I  did  it  would  have  been  too  late.  This 
is  a  fierce  storm." 

"  He  isn't  —  he  isn't  frozen,  is  he?  " 
faltered  Dobbleigh,  as  he  gazed  into 
the  blue  little  face  of  the  unconscious 
urchin,  a  face  grimy  with  the  frequent 
mixture  of  two  dirty  little  fists  and  his 
tears. 

"Not  quite,"  said  Mallerby.  "I 
think  I  got  him  in  time,  and  he'll  pull 
through,  but  he  had  a  mighty  close  call 


142         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

of  it.  By  George,  boys,  just  think  of 
a  wee  bit  of  a  tot  like  that,  barely  more 
than  six  years  old,  having  to  be  out 
on  a  night  like  this!  Why,  the  poor 
little  cuss  ought  to  be  dreaming  of 
Santa  Claus  in  a  nice  warm  bed  some- 
where, instead  of  picking  pennies  out 
of  these  arctic  streets  of  ours,  in  order 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together." 

Warmed  by  the  glow  of  the  fire,  the 
youngster  stirred  as  the  doctor  spoke, 
and  a  weary  little  voice,  scarce  higher 
than  a  whisper,  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  room: 

"  Extree!  Bigges'  blizzid  in  twenty 
years.  Extree!  Piper,  sir? " 

The  seven  sophisticated  men  of  the 
world,  gathered  about  the  prostrate 
figure,  stood  silent,  and  three  of  them 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     143 

turned  away,  lest  the  others  should  see 
the  unmanly  moisture  of  their  eyes. 

"  Here,  by  thunder!  "  gasped  Rick- 
etts,  pulling  a  roll  of  bills  from  his 
pocket.  C(  Hanged  if  I  won't  buy  the 
whole  edition." 

"That's  all  right,  Billie,"  smiled 
the  doctor.  "  What  he  needs  just  now 
is  something  less  cold  than  money. 
We'll  take  him  up-stairs,  and  give  him  a 
warm  bath,  fill  his  little  stomach  up 
with  milk,  and  put  him  to  bed,  with  a 
nice  fuzzy  blanket  to  thaw  out  his  icy 
little  legs." 

"  Splendid!  "  said  Ricketts.  "  But, 
see  here,  doctor,  I  want  to  be  in  on  this. 
Isn't  there  anything  I  can  do  to  help?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "You 
might  make  this  proceeding  regular  by 


144         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

putting  him  up  as  your  guest  on  a  ten- 
day  card." 

The  little  bundle  of  rags  and  hu- 
manity was  tenderly  carried  to  the 
regions  above,  and  under  the  almost 
womanly  ministrations  of  Doctor  Mal- 
lerby  was  completely  restored  to  clean- 
liness and  warmth;  what  hunger  he 
might  have  been  conscious  of  was  as- 
suaged by  a  great  bumper  of  milk, 
and  then  in  the  most  sumptuous  apart- 
ment the  club  was  able  to  provide  the 
thawed-out  little  gamin  was  put  to 
bed. 

The  snowy  sheets,  the  soft,  downy 
pillows,  and  the  soul-warming  blankets, 
were  not  needed  to  lure  him  into  the 
land  of  dreams,  for  the  bitter  experi- 
ences of  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     145 

still  weighed  heavily  upon  his  eyelids, 
even  if  his  mind  and  heart  were  no 
longer  conscious  of  them.  He  pre- 
sented a  most  appealing  picture  as  he 
lay  there,  after  settling  back  with  a 
deep-drawn  sigh  of  content  into  the 
kindly  embrace  of  a  bed  seven  or  eight 
sizes  too  big  for  him,  his  little  legs 
scarcely  reaching  halfway  to  the  mid- 
dle, and  his  tousled  head  of  red  hair 
forming  a  rubricated  spot  on  the  milk- 
white  pillow-case  as  it  stuck  up  out 
of  the  bed-clothes,  and  lay  comfort- 
ably back  in  what  was  probably  the 
first  soft  nest  it  had  known  since  it  lay 
on  its  mother's  breast  —  if,  indeed,  it 
had  ever  known  that  rare  felicity. 

'  There,"    said    the    doctor,    as    the 
little  foundling,  with  a  suspicion  of  a 


146        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

smile  on  his  pursed-up  lips,  wandered 
more  deeply  into  the  land  of  Nod.  "  I 
guess  he's  fixed  for  the  night,  anyhow, 
and  the  rest  of  us  can  go  about  our 
business." 

The  seven  men  tiptoed  softly  out  of 
the  room,  and  adjourned  to  the  spa- 
cious chambers  below,  where  for  an 
hour  they  tried  to  lose  themselves  in 
the  chaos  of  bridge.  They  were  all 
fairly  expert  players  at  that  noble 
social  obsession,  but  nobody  would 
have  guessed  it  that  night.  No  party 
of  beginners  ever  played  quite  so  atro- 
ciously, and  yet  no  partner  was  found 
sufficiently  outraged  to  be  acrimonious. 
The  fact  was  that  not  one  of  them  was 
able  to  keep  his  mind  on  the  cards, 
the  thoughts  of  every  one  of  them 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     147 

reverting  constantly  to  the  wan  little 
figure  in  that  upper  room. 

Finally  Dobbleigh,  after  having  re- 
neged twice,  and  trumped  his  partner's 
trick  more  than  once,  threw  down  his 
cards,  and  drew  away  from  the  table 
impatiently. 

"  It's  no  use,  fellows,"  he  said.  "  I 
can't  keep  my  eye  on  the  ball.  I'm 
going  to  bed." 

"  Same  here,"  said  Ricketts.  "  Every 
blessed  face  card  in  this  pack  —  queen, 
king,  or  jack — is  a  red-headed  little 
newsboy  to  me,  and  every  spade  is  a 
heart.  It's  me  for  Slumberland." 

So  the  party  broke  up,  and  within 
an  hour  the  clubhouse  went  dark. 
Doctor  Mallerby  assumed  possession 
of  a  single  room  adjoining  that  of  their 


148        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

little  guest,  so  that  he  might  keep  an 
eye  upon  his  newly  acquired  patient 
through  the  night,  and  the  others 
distributed  themselves  about  on  the 
upper  floors. 

At  midnight  all  was  still  as  a  sylvan 
dell  in  the  depths  of  a  winter's  night, 
when  no  sounds  of  birds,  or  of  rustling 
leaves,  or  of  babbling  waters  break  in 
upon  the  quiet  of  the  scene. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing when  Doctor  Mallerby  was  roused 
suddenly  from  his  sleep  by  the  sound 
of  stealthy  footsteps  in  the  adjoining 
room,  where  the  little  sleeper  lay.  He 
rose  hastily  from  his  couch,  and  en- 
tered the  room,  and  was  much  sur- 
prised to  see,  in  the  dim  light  of  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     149 

hall  lamp,  no  less  a  person  than  Dobb- 
leigh,  acting  rather  suspiciously,  too. 

"  Hullo,  what  are  you  up  to, 
Dobby?  "  he  queried,  in  a  low  whisper, 
as  he  espied  that  worthy,  clad  in  a 
bath  robe  of  too  ample  proportions, 
stealing  out  of  the  room. 

"  Why  --  nothing,  Mallerby,  noth- 
ing," replied  Dobbleigh,  evidently 
much  embarrassed.  "I  —  er  —  I  just 
thought  I'd  run  down,  and  see  how 
the  little  chap  was  getting  along.  I'm 
something  of  a  father  myself,  you 
know." 

"What's  all  this?"  continued  the 
doctor,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  a  number 
of  strange-looking  objects  spread  along 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  little  toes  of  the  sleeper 


150        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

—  a  book  of  rhymes  with  a  gorgeous 
red  cover;  a  small  tin  trumpet,  with 
a  pleasing  variety  of  stops;  a  box  of 
tin  soldiers;  and  a  complete  rough- 
rider's  outfit,  sword,  cap,  leggings,  and 
blouse;  not  to  mention  an  assortment 
of  other  things  well  calculated  to  de- 
light the  soul  of  youth. 

"  Why,"  faltered  Dobbleigh,  his  face 
turning  as  red  as  the  flag  of  anarchy, 
"  you  see,  I  happened  to  have  these 
things  along  with  me,  Mallerby  —  for 
my  own  kiddies,  you  know  —  and  it 
sort  of  seemed  a  pity  not  to  get  some 
use  out  of  them  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing, and  so  -  Oh,  well,  you  know,  old 


man." 


The  hand  of  the  doctor  gripped  that 
of  the  intruder,  and  he  tried  to  assure 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     151 

him  that  he  did  know,  but  he  couldn't. 
He  choked  up,  and  was  about  to  turn 
away  when  the  door  began  moving 
slowly  upon  its  hinges  once  more,  and 
Grantham  entered,  quite  as  much  after 
the  fashion  of  the  stealthy-footed  crim- 
inal as  Dobbleigh.  He,  too,  carried  a 
variety  of  packages,  and  under  each 
arm  was  a  tightly  packed  golf  stock- 
ing. He  started  back  as  he  saw  Dobb- 
leigh and  the  doctor  standing  by  the 
bedside,  but  it  was  too  late.  They 
had  caught  him  in  the  act. 

"  Ah,  Grantham,"  said  Dobbleigh, 
with  a  grin.  "  Giving  an  imitation  of  a 
second-story  man,  eh?  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  those  two  stuffed 
clubs?  Sandbag  somebody?  " 

"  Yes,"   said   Grantham   sheepishly. 


152        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  I've  had  it  in  for  the  doctor  for  some 
time,  and  I  thought  I'd  sneak  down 
and  give  him  one  while  he  slept." 

"  All  right,  Granny,"  smiled  the  doc- 
tor. "  Just  hang  your  clubs  on  the 
foot  of  the  bed  here,  and  after  I've  got 
to  sleep  again,  come  in,  and  perpetrate 
the  dastardly  deed." 

"  Fact  is,  boys,"  said  Grantham  seri- 
ously, "  these  things  I  was  taking  home 
to  my  youngsters  are  going  to  waste 
under  the  circumstances,  and  I  had 
an  idea  it  wouldn't  hurt  our  guest  here 
to  wake  up  just  once  to  a  real  Santa 
Claus  feast." 

"Fine!"  said  the  doctor.  "Looks 
to  me  as  if  this  youngster  had  thrown 
doubles.  Dobby  here  has  already 
fitted  him  out  with  a  complete  army, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     153 


and  various  other  things,  too  numer- 


ous to  mention." 


"Why,  look  who's  here!"  cried 
Dobbleigh,  interrupting  the  doctor,  as 
the  door  swung  open  a  third  time,  and 
Seymour  appeared,  his  raiment  con- 
sisting of  a  blanket  and  a  pair  of  car- 
pet slippers,  causing  him  in  the  dim 
light  to  give  the  impression  of  an  In- 
dian on  the  warpath.  "  By  Jove, 
Tommy,"  he  added,  "  all  you  need  is  a 
tomahawk  in  one  hand,  and  a  bunch 
of  wooden  cigars  in  the  other,  to  pass 
for  the  puller-in  of  a  tobacco  shop. 
What  are  you  after,  sneaking  in  here 
like  old  Sitting  Bull,  at  this  unholy 
hour  of  the  morning?  After  the  kid's 
scalp?" 

"  Why,    you    see,    Dobby,"    replied 


154        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

Seymour,  revealing  a  soft,  furry  cap 
and  a  pair  of  gloves  that  looked  as  if 
they  had  just  been  pulled  off  the  paws 
of  a  bear  cub,  "  I  happened  to  be  ta- 
king these  things  home  for  my  boy 
Jim  —  he's  daft  on  skating,  and  it's 
cold  as  the  dickens  up  at  Blairsport  - 
but  Jimmie  can  wait  until  New  Year's 
for  his,  I  guess.  It  came  over  me  all 
of  a  sudden,  while  I  was  trying  to  get 
to  sleep  upstairs,  that  our  honored 
guest  might  find  them  useful." 

"  Look  at  those  chapped  little  fists," 
said  the  doctor.  "  That's  your  an- 
swer, Seymour!  " 

"They're  his,  all  right,"  said  Sey- 
mour, sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  comparing  the  gloves  with  the 
red  little  hands  that  lay  inert  on  the 


One  by  one  the  prisoners  of  the  night  dropped  in  surrep- 
titiously.    Page  155. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     155 

counterpane.  "  By  Jove!  "  he  mut- 
tered, as  he  took  one  of  the  diminutive 
hands  in  his  own.  "  They're  like  sand- 
paper." 

"  Selling  papers  in  winter  doesn't 
give  these  babies  exactly  the  sort  of 
paddies  you'd  expect  to  find  on  a 
mollycoddle,"  said  the  doctor. 

And  so,  here  in  the  House  of  the 
Seven  Santas,  things  went  for  the  next 
hour.  One  by  one  all  the  prisoners  of 
the  night,  with  the  exception  of  Rick- 
etts,  dropped  in  surreptitiously,  to 
find  that  the  ideas  of  each  were  com- 
mon to  them  all,  and  the  little  mite 
under  the  bedclothes  was  destined 
soon  to  emerge  from  the  riches  of  his 
dreams  into  a  reality  even  richer  and 
more  substantial.  The  varied  gifts 


156        A   LITTLE    BOOK   OF   CHRISTMAS 

were  ranged  about  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
the  golf  stockings  bulging  with  sweets 
were  hung  at  its  head,  and  the  big- 
hearted  donors  retired,  this  time  to 
that  real  sleep  which  comes  to  him  who 
has  had  the  satisfaction  of  some  kindly 
deed  to  look  back  upon. 

"Poor  Ricketts!"  sighed  the  doc- 
tor, as  he  noted  the  one  absentee. 
"  How  much  these  old  bachelors  lose 
at  this  season  of  the  year!  " 

Two  hours  later,  just  as  the  first 
rays  of  the  dawn  began  to  light  up  the 
guest  room,  its  small  occupant  opened 
his  eyes,  and  began  rubbing  them  vio- 
lently with  his  fists. 

"  Chee!  "  was  his  first  utterance,  and 
then  he  sat  up  and  gazed  about  him. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     157 

His  unfamiliar  surroundings  naturally 
puzzled  him,  and  a  look  of  childish 
wonder  came  over  his  face.  "  Where'm 
I  at?  ?:  he  muttered.  "Guess  diss 
must  be  dat  Heaven  place  de  guys 
down  to  de  mission  talks  about." 

He  clambered  out  of  bed,  and  as  he 
did  so  his  eyes  took  in  the  wondrous 
array  of  gifts  spread  before  him. 

"  Well,  whad'd'yer  know  about 
dat?"  he  muttered.  "What  kind  of 
a  choint  is  diss,  anyhow?  " 

As  he  attempted  to  walk  across  the 
room  his  small  feet  became  entangled  in 
the  flowing  skirt  of  Mallerby's  bath  robe, 
which  he  wore  in  lieu  of  a  nightshirt. 

"  Dat's  it,"  he  said,  as  he  tripped, 
and  stumbled  to  the  floor.  "  I'm  dead, 
dat's  what  I  am  —  and  dese  is  my 


158         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

anchel  clo'es.  Chee,  but  dey's  hard 
to  walk  in.  Seems  to  me  I'd  radder 
have  me  pants." 

In  a  moment  he  had  regained  his 
feet,  and  the  marvelous  variety  of 
toys  began  to  reveal  themselves  in 
detail  to  his  astounded  vision. 

"  Will  yer  pipe  de  layout!  "  he 
gasped  ecstatically.  "  Wonder  what 
kid's  goin'  to  have  de  luck  to  draw 
dem  in  his  socks?  " 

And  just  then  the  door  opened  again, 
and  a  sleepy-eyed  old  bachelor  came 
stealing  in,  in  the  person  of  Ricketts. 
He  wore  his  pajamas,  and  a  yellow 
mackintosh  thrown  over  his  shoulders. 

"  Good  morning,  kiddie,"  he  said, 
closing  the  door  softly  behind  him. 
"  Merry  Christmas  to  you!  " 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS    159 

"  Merry  Chrissmus  yerself !  "  smiled 
the  youngster.  "  Say,  mister,  kin  yer 
tell  me  where  I'm  at?  Diss  ain't  like 
my  reg'lar  lodgin'  house,  and  I  must 
ha'  got  in  wrong  somehow." 

"  Where  is  your  regular  lodging 
house?"  asked  Ricketts,  seating  him- 
self on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Oh,  any  old  place  where  dere's 
room  fer  me  an'  me  feet  at  de  same 
time,"  replied  the  boy.  "  Packin' 
boxes  mostly  in  de  winter-time,  and  de 
docks  in  de  summer." 

"But  your  parents?"  demanded 
Ricketts.  "  Where  are  they?  " 

"Me  what? "  asked  the  boy. 

"  Your  parents  —  your  father  and 
mother?  "  explained  Ricketts. 

"  I    ain't    never    had    no    mudder," 


160         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

said    the    boy.      "  But    me    fadder  - 
well,  me  an'  him  had  a  scrap  over  me 
wages  las'   summer,   and  I   ain't  seen 
him  since." 

"  Your  wages,  eh?  "  smiled  Ricketts. 
The  idea  of  this  little  tad  earning  wages 
struck  him  as  being  rather  humor- 
ous. 

"  He  t'ought  I  ought  to  give  him 
de  whole  wad,"  said  the  boy,  "  and 
when  he  licked  me  for  spendin'  a 
nickel  on  meself  and  a  fr'en'  o'  mine 
las'  Fourth  o'  July,  I  give  him  de 
skidoo." 

"  I  see,"  said  Ricketts,  regarding  the 
little  guest  with  a  singular  light  in  his 
eye.  "  You've  got  a  fine  lot  of  stuff 
here  from  old  Santa  Claus,  haven't 
you?" 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS    161 

"What,  me?"  asked  the  boy,  ga- 
zing earnestly  into  Ricketts'  face.  "  Is 
dese  here  t'ings  for  me?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Ricketts. 
"  Old  Daddy  Santa  Claus  on  his  rounds 
last  night  found  you  occupying  a  hand- 
some apartment  on  Fifth  Avenue,  but 
the  steam  heat  had  been  turned  off, 
and,  fearing  you  might  catch  cold,  he 
picked  you  up  and  brought  you  to  his 
own  home.  He'd  been  looking  for 
you  all  day." 

"  And  dese  is  —  really  — fer  me  ?  " 
cried  the  child. 

"  Every  blessed  stick  and  shred  of 
them,"  said  Ricketts  fervently. 

The  boy  squatted  flat  upon  the  floor, 
completely  staggered  by  the  sudden 
revelation  of  his  wealth. 


162        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

"  Chee!  "  was  all  he  could  think  of 
to  say. 

And  then  began  a  romp  through  a 
veritable  toyland,  in  which  two  lonely 
wanderers  through  the  vales  of  life 
had  the  first  taste  of  joys  they  had 
never  known  before;  the  red-headed 
little  son  of  the  streets  getting  the  first 
glimpse  of  kindness  that  his  starved  lit- 
tle soul  had  ever  enjoyed;  the  confirmed 
old  bachelor  finding  the  only  outlet  that 
fate  had  ever  vouchsafed  him  for  those 
instincts  of  fatherhood  which  are  the 
priceless  heritage  of  us  all. 

Small  wonder  that  the  play  waxed 
fast,  furious,  and  noisy.  The  lad,  up 
to  this  time  confronted  ever  with  the 
pressing  necessities  of  life,  developed  a 
capacity  for  play  that  was  all  the  more 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     163 

intense  for  the  privations  of  his  limited 
years;  the  bachelor  finding  the  dam  of 
his  pent-up  feelings  loosened  into  an 
overwhelming  flood  of  pure  joyousness. 
There  were  cries  of  joy,  and  shrieks  of 
laughter,  and  when,  with  some  diffi- 
culty, because  of  his  lack  of  experience, 
Ricketts  finally  succeeded  in  getting 
the  lad  arrayed  in  his  rough-rider  suit, 
whose  buckles  and  buttons  seemed  ag- 
gravatingly  small  for  hands  that  had 
developed  nothing  but  thumbs,  the 
tin  trumpet,  with  all  the  stops  save  the 
one  that  would  silence  it  even  tempo- 
rarily, was  brought  into  play;  and  the 
battles  that  were  fought  in  the  ensuing 
hour  between  a  noble  army  of  warriors, 
led  by  the  youngster  against  himself  as 
either  a  Spanish  army  or  a  wild  Indian 


164        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

tribe,  have  no  equals  in  the  annals  of 
warfare. 

The  morning  was  pretty  well  ad- 
vanced when  the  other  sleeping  Santas 
were  roused  from  their  dreams  by 
shouts  of  victory,  to  be  confronted 
upon  investigation  by  a  prostrate 
enemy,  in  the  person  of  Ricketts, 
lying  face  downward  upon  the  floor, 
with  a  diminutive  rough-rider  standing 
upon  the  small  of  his  back,  waving  a 
nickel  sword  in  the  air,  while  he  blew 
ear-splitting  blasts  upon  his  trumpet  to 
announce  the  arrival  of  the  conqueror. 

"Well,  well,  well!"  said  Doctor 
Mallerby,  with  a  loud  laugh,  as  he 
and  the  others  burst  into  the  room. 
"  What's  going  on?  Another  San  Juan 
Hill?" 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     165 

"  The  same,"  panted  Ricketts,  from 
his  coign  of  disadvantage.  "  And  I'm 
the  hill.  All  that  remains  now  is  for 
some  of  you  fellows  to  hurry  up,  and 
get  a  bath  towel  from  somewhere,  and 
hoist  the  flag  of  truce." 

The  morning  passed,  and  the  storm 
showing  some  signs  of  abatement,  the 
exiled  men  began  to  cherish  hopes  of 
getting  home  before  night.  Communi- 
cation with  the  railway  station  elicited 
the  gratifying  news  that  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a  train  would 
be  sent  forth  to  carry  the  marooned 
suburbanites  back  to  the  scenes  of 
their  domestic  desires. 

Meanwhile,  the  honored  guest  re- 
ceived to  the  full  all  the  attention  of 


i66        A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

which  the  Seven  Santas  were  capable; 
only  in  making  up  for  the  lost  play- 
time of  the  past  the  guest  proved  to 
be  untiring,  while  the  Seven  Santas  were 
compelled  now  and  then  to  work  in  re- 
lays in  order  to  keep  up  with  the  game. 
Hence  it  was  that  at  various  hours  of 
the  day  dignified  business  men  were  to 
be  seen  squatting  upon  the  floor,  irre- 
spective of  that  dignity,  running  iron 
cars  over  tin  railway  tracks,  arranging 
the  serried  ranks  of  tin  soldiers  in  battle 
array,  answering  strident  summonses 
to  battle  sounded  on  that  everlast- 
ing tin  trumpet,  and,  strange  to  say, 
joining  their  young  friend  in  feasts 
of  candy  and  other  digestion-destroy- 
ing sweets  which  they  had  forever 
eschewed  long  years  before. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     167 

"  I  suppose  I'll  suffer  for  this,"  said 
Grantham,  as  at  the  command  of  his 
superior  officer  he  swallowed  the  handle 
of  a  peppermint  walking  stick,  after 
fletcherizing  it  carefully  for  several 
minutes,  "  but,  by  ginger,  it's  worth 
it." 

"  You'll  be  all  right,  Gran,"  laughed 
the  doctor.  "  If  worst  comes  to  the 
worst,  I'll  blow  you  to  a  pony  of  ipecac, 
unless  you  prefer  squills." 

But  at  last  even  the  strenuous  nature 
of  the  guest  began  to  show  signs  of  the 
day's  inroads  upon  his  strength,  and 
when  the  hour  for  the  departure  of  the 
suburbanites  came  shortly  before  four, 
and  they  all  gathered  around  to  bid  him 
their  adieus,  they  were  hardly  surprised 
to  find  him  cuddled  up  on  the  bearskin 


i68         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

rug  before  the  fire,  fast  asleep,  with  his 
tin  trumpet  hugged  tightly  to  his  breast. 

"  We're  a  great  lot!  "  said  Dobbleigh 
suddenly.  "  We  can't  all  go  off,  and 
leave  him  here  alone.  What  the  dick- 
ens are  we  going  to  do?  " 

"  Don't  bother,"  said  Ricketts,  from 
the  depths  of  the  lounge,  where  he  had 
been  trying  for  some  minutes  to  get 
a  much-needed  rest.  "I  —  I  —  er  — 
I  haven't  anything  on  hand,  boys. 
Leave  him  to  me.  I'll  take  care  of 
him." 

"  I  move  we  all  meet  here  to- 
morrow," said  Grantham,  "  and  see 
what's  to  be  done  with  the  kid." 

Ricketts  rose  up  from  the  lounge, 
and  started  to  speak,  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  doctor. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     169 

"  Did  any  of  you  think  to  ask 
the  little  tad  his  name?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  That's  where  I  come  in,  boys," 
said  Ricketts.  "  You  needn't  bother 
your  heads  about  his  name  or  his  to- 
morrow —  I'll  take  care  of  both.  You 
men  have  provided  him  with  the  joys 
of  to-day -- pretty  substantial  joys, 
too,  as  those  of  us  who  have  helped 
him  to  enjoy  them  can  testify.  As  a 
hearthless  old  bachelor,  bundleless  and 
forlorn,  I  was  unable  to  qualify  on  the 
toy  end  of  things,  but  when  it  comes 
to  names,  I'll  give  him  one  as  my 
contribution  to  his  Christmas  posses- 
sions." 

"Good  for  you,  Billie!  "  laughed 
Dobbleigh.  "  Would  you  mind  telling 


170         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

us  what  it  is  to  be,  so  that  we  can  put 
him  on  our  visiting  lists  ? ': 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  returned  Rick- 
etts,  with  an  affectionate  glance  at  the 
boy.  "  He  is  to  be  known  henceforth 
as  William  Ricketts,  Junior." 

"  William  Ricketts,  Junior  ?  "  cried 
the  others,  almost  in  one  voice. 

"  Precisely,"  said  Ricketts,  turning 
and  facing  them.  "  From  now  on  you 
fellows  will  have  to  quit  putting  it  all 
over  me  because  you  have  children, 
and  I  haven't.  I've  come  into  a  ready- 
made  family  —  rather  unexpectedly, 
but  there  it  is.  It's  mine,  and  I'm 
going  to  keep  it.  I've  been  without 
one  too  long,  and  after  what  I  have 
tasted  this  day  I  find  that  I  have  ac- 
quired a  thirst  for  paternity  that  can 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     171 

never  be  cured.  To-morrow  I  propose 
to  adopt  our  small  guest  here  formally 
by  due  process  of  law." 

"  But  where  do  we  come  in  on  this?  ': 
cried  Grantham.  "  It's  bully  of  you,  old 
man,  but  we  can't  permit  you  to  shoul- 
der the  whole  burden  of  this  boy's  - 

"  Shut  up,  Gran!  "  retorted  Ricketts, 
with  an  affectation  of  fine  scorn.  "  You 
and  the  rest  of  this  bunch  are  nothing 
but  a  lot  of  blooming  uncles.  And  by 
the  way,  gentlemen,"  he  added,  with 
a  courtly  bow,  "  I  thank  you  all  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  your  kind- 
ness to  my  son.  Good  night." 

And  with  that,  six  of  the  exiles 
passed  out  into  the  twilight,  and  hur- 
ried back  to  their  own  firesides,  leaving 
Ricketts  to  his  own. 


172         A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  CHRISTMAS 

And  that  is  why,  too,  that  the  club 
servants,  when  they  came  to  make  their 
rounds  that  night  before  turning  out  the 
lights,  were  surprised  to  find  old  Billie 
Ricketts  lying  fast  asleep  in  the  warm 
embrace  of  one  of  the  richly  uphol- 
stered armchairs  of  the  lounging  room, 
before  the  blazing  log  fire  on  the  hearth, 
with  a  mite  of  a  boy  curled  up  in  his  lap, 
his  little  red  head  snuggled  close  to  the 
manly  chest  of  his  protector,  and  a 
happy  little  smile  upon  his  lips,  that 
showed  that  his  dreams  were  sweet,  and 
that  in  those  arms  he  felt  himself  se- 
cure from  the  trials  of  life. 

There  was  that  upon  the  faces  of 
both  that  gave  the  watchers  pause, 
and  they  refrained  from  waking  them, 
merely  turning  out  the  electric  lights, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SANTAS     173 

and  tiptoeing  softly  out  of  the  room, 
leaving  the  sleepers  bathed  in  the 
mellow  glow  of  the  dancing  flames. 

Two  lonely  hearts  had  come  into 
their  own  in  the  House  of  the  Seven 
Santas! 


THE    END. 


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